The Equivalency of Destiny
by Shadow Master
Summary: (BtVS/Fullmetal Alchemist/Fate Stay Night/Fate Apocrypha/Hellsing) Evolution. Adaptation. Change. These are the things that shape the future. Whether or not it will be for good or for ill no one knows.
1. Chapter 1

"The Equivalency of Destiny" By Shadow Master

(BtVS/Fullmetal Alchemist/Fate Stay Night/ Fate Apocrypha/Hellsing)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my work. Therefore it would be greatly appreciated if no legal action were taken against me.

Note 1: This idea came to me as I watched the latest 'Fate' anime series and it was good enough to get my muse interested in taking things from a loose idea of my imagination to something more detailed. Thanks to Holyknight, someone who I use as a sounding board for ideas, I managed to put together a plot idea that I think is actually quite good. Seeing as how there aren't all that many crossovers involving the above mentioned copyrighted shows it'll be interesting to see how you the readers react. I hope you like it.

Note 2: As with all my stories I will do what I can to remain true to the original source material but if some fact from any of them blocks or otherwise makes telling the story I want to tell too difficult I will change it. If you're one of those readers that insists on everything adhering to canon perfectly then I suggest you turn around and find another story. What spurs me on to write is mostly the plot my imagination comes up with and with the help of Holyknight it only gets more interesting. So just so you all know: you can write all the criticisms and bad reviews you want but so long as me and my muse like the story I'll keep writing. I'M the only one who gets to decide if or when a story dies.

Note 3: The publish date and premiere date for the Fullmetal Alchemist manga and anime in the universe this takes place three years prior to the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer this story starts out during. As far as the Fate/Stay Night characters are concerned when they show up their history will be of the Unlimited Blade Works sort that is described in wiki as the best possible ending after the Fifth Holy Grail War. There will be some alterations in order to make the stories of Fate/Stay Night and Fate Apocrypha mesh and join so please be tolerant.

Well this took too long. Please enjoy my story. Praise gratefully accepted and flames cheerfully ignored.

 _The Equivalency of Destiny_

 _ **537 A.D**_

 _ **Post Battle of Camlann**_

 _ **Nimue's POV**_

The hope for the future had fallen.

For almost three decades she had worked with her sister Vivian to create a light of hope and nobility to guide the humans out of the dark times they were engulfed in. With the help of Merlin they had located one who possessed all the traits that a leader would need to guide the humans closer to their nobler natures in Artoria Pendragon. Thanks to a set up legend created years earlier, Artoria was proclaimed the prophesied ruler of the land destined to bring prosperity and happiness to the people. It proved difficult in the beginning but, thanks to Merlin acting as a mentor to the young woman, the 'king' of Camelot quickly became a polished stone beloved by all.

Well, almost all.

Artoria's older sister Morgan Le Fay had always been jealous of her younger sibling because of the favoritism Uther showed towards the ruler of Camelot growing up. Jealousy became hate and hate turned into a desire for vengeance that would linger nigh until the woman's death. From almost the beginning the older sibling worked to bring ruin to her sister, learning all manner of magic that she thought could be useful to her. However it wasn't until Merlin decided to have a little fun at Artoria's expense that Morgan made her move. Using sorcery, the woman managed to acquire that which she needed to create a pseudo-daughter and, because she was not patient, also accelerated the growth of the homunculus until the heir reached a suitable age. From there a disguise was crafted with the heir, named Mordred by Morgan, in order to allow the young woman to become one of Camelot's knights. From there it'd been easy enough to use the strength of Artoria's blood to ascend to the ranks of the Round.

Too bad things didn't go completely according to Morgan's plan.

The woman's goal was for Mordred to hide her true identity and purpose then, when the time was right, to take the throne from Artoria.

However, due to the childlike adoration Mordred had towards her 'father', the sort-of-daughter wanted to be named the heir to the throne with the king's blessing rather than through brute force. Morgan countered this by finally revealing to her 'daughter' her true origins, causing Mordred's mind to become chaotic as her entire world was turned upside down. On the one hand the girl felt ashamed of her origins and disconnected from those around her while on the other side there was nothing but excitement at the idea of being the child of the king she adored. In the end glee won out and, without telling Morgan, the girl met with her 'father' and, after removing her helmet, revealed the truth as she saw it.

That she was the child of the king and therefore rightful heir to the throne of Camelot.

However, while Artoria acknowledging Mordred was the result of a union between her and Morgan, the king refused to officially name her the heir to the throne.

This planted the seeds of anger and hate in Mordred that Morgan was only too glad to nurture to full bloom. Not only that, but Morgan lent quiet aid to those few subjects who did not share the adoration for King Arthur that the majority of the people did. Like a disease it spread through the people, turning once loyal subjects into bitter people who looked at Artoria with mistrust. Matters only got worse by Artoria's conclusion that the king could not be a human being in how they acted and needed to abandon human emotion in order to protect the people by making logical and rational decisions. As a result of this decision one knight claimed that the king did not understand human feelings and therefore could not relate to her subjects. Others likely felt the same but did not voice it. Time passed and some chose to leave Camelot, unwilling to follow one for whom the human heart was a closed book.

However the real downfall occurred when an affair came to light that caused significant cracks to form in the reputation of the perfect king.

As a result of the actions of a few traitors and likely Morgan Le Fay, it became known that soon after the arrival of Queen Guinevere Sir Lancelot Du Lac began meeting with her in secret. While once or twice could have been forgiven, many more times between a man and a woman and it can only be considered an illicit affair. After all, if it was only friendship then there was no need for the meetings to happen in secret, was there? In the end Artoria chose to fulfill her duties as the king and sentenced the queen to be executed for betraying her lawful husband and king.

She did this even if she herself didn't see the act as a betrayal but rather the natural result of the sacrifice Guinevere made in becoming wed to someone for the sake of the people rather than love.

However, so in love with the queen was Lancelot that it drove him to attempt to free his lover from her prison cell, intent on fleeing from the kingdom to someplace safe. If the two of them could not flee then he would remain to hold off pursuit while Guinevere fled to France, Lancelot's homeland, where she would be safe from pursuit. In the course of this rescue several knights were killed, including the brothers of Gawain, but as if some unseen hand of Fate was present, the two of them were able to flee to France successfully. Years passed without any sign of pursuit from Camelot and as their fear waned their joy soared, but within them both there forever lingered a cloud of guilt over what they'd done to their dear friend.

As a result of this the two of them always kept an ear out for any news of Camelot and often paid visits to friends whose livelihoods would cause them to visit Artoria's kingdom from time to time.

The news was not good and it only got worse.

Lack of emotion was making it impossible for the king to form bonds with his subjects and the successful escape of two who'd betrayed the throne made some question Artoria's competency. However it was then Lancelot heard the rumors of the 'imminent fall of the inhuman king' concern gripped the two of them fearing that their friend was in real danger. Lancelot insisted that Guinevere remain in France for her own safety while he would return to Camelot to trace these rumors to their source.

By the time that Lancelot returned to Camelot, though, the civil unrest and distrust towards Arthur was quickly reaching its boiling point under Mordred's leadership. Wary of how the atmosphere would cause everyone to be on the lookout for trouble, he did his best never to expose his complete face to anyone lest they inform the Round Table of his return.

It took nearly a week before he managed to locate the basement where an informant had told him the one who started the rumors often spent his time but all he found there was a blacksmith's workshop. There were numerous examples of what could be made spread but the majority of them were tools of war, making him worry about what this could mean. While there was no shortage of shops in Camelot authorized to sell such things, normally a shop owner only produced enough to keep their shelves stocked. Based on what he could see the blacksmith had been diligently working on making quite a bit and even had a sheath that reminded him of the one that belonged with Excalibur, if only in shape.

It wasn't until the last of his plans to find the ones intending to bring down Artoria came to an end that time horribly ran out.

One morning worry cried out amongst the people as it became known that Knights of the Round Table had vanished and with them their subordinates. A search was carried out to find them but even after three days not a trace of them could be found. Nevertheless, their disappearance led many to come up with troubling possibilities but it was only when a messenger arrived to deliver his last message that the truth became known.

The missing knights, their subordinates and Mordred were attacking the fortress under the command of one of the Round Table.

Discontent, mistrust and hatred had evolved into all too real civil war.

Fearing the all too real possibility that Camelot, the golden kingdom, would fall, he threw stealth to the side and went to the king to offer his full aid in putting down the traitors to protect the kingdom. Gawain profusely opposed this, insisting that he could not be trusted and that he should be executed before he could join Mordred. This was to be expected considering that Lancelot had killed Gawain's brothers during his rescue of Guinevere. In the end Artoria chose to side with Gawain and he was imprisoned in the dungeon to be dealt with after the revolt was put down.

The next person Lancelot saw filled him with great joy but also crushing grief.

Artoria along with almost all who had set out with her were dead.

The only twinkle of goodness being that Mordred and her forces has suffered the same fate.

Lancelot's world began to darken even if to others it remained the same, but with the help of the one who'd come to set him free he was able to leave the dungeon and from there the castle.

Who was this person?

Guinevere.

Against his expressed wishes she'd snuck away from his relatives in France to follow him back to Camelot, determined to share the burden with those she cared for. This was a sharp divergence from who she'd been, a woman who always did what was expected of her, but a welcome one, implying her time with Lancelot in France had strengthened her.

Upon leaving the dungeon the two began to make their way out of the castle and then beyond the wall through one of the breaches created by one of Mordred's catapults. It was only when Camelot was a mere spot on the horizon that Lancelot rose from his despair and asked Guinevere to take him to the lake where it all began. Apparently it was the former knight's decision that he was no longer fit to wield the fabled sword Arondight, even though the sword itself had not rejected him as its master.

She too did not see him as unworthy of such a holy sword but still she waited, wrapped in the waters of the lake, to either receive the blade as requested or persuade the man that there was still hope.

It was a short while later that she sensed the tarnished holy power of Arondight and so she turned to see Lancelot on Guinevere come over the hill, steps heavy with sorrow over what had transpired. This was to be expected considering all who had fallen and all that had been lost.

When a shimmer of dark blue light manifested a fair distance behind and to the left of them, concern welled within her. This was only proven right when the shimmering came to an end to reveal one of the worst threats possible.

Somehow Morgan Le Fay had survived the Battle of Camlann and now seemed intent on slaying the last two prominent members of Camelot in order to make her victory total.

"Lancelot! Defend yourself!" she cried out in fear, her soul quivering at the thought of losing him as well.

In a move that proved that while in the depths of despair and grief the knight still had a firm grip on the skills he'd honed through years of training, Arondight was brought up in the correct direction. Just in time, too, since a moment later a blast of magic impacted upon the blade, causing it to be diverted off to the side, missing both Camelot survivors but tearing the ground around them apart. Even tainted by the dishonor tied to the slaying of his fellow knights and defying his king, the holy sword still had its power to receive any attack and block it.

Morgan looked her way and glared at the ruining of her surprise attack but soon turned her attention back to her two targets.

"I was disappointed to not find you in your cell, Lancelot, but I am pleased since your escape has brought to me one more to feel my wrath," Morgan said with malicious politeness. "With your deaths Artoria's lie of kingdom will perish and I will be free to raise my own empire in its place, superior in every way. Camelot will be considered a filthy hovel by comparison!"

"Lie? Hovel!? You have no right to speak of the King that way! Not Artoria and not Camelot!" Lancelot yelled, life and light returning to his eyes. "You! You're the reason the hope for the future has been destroyed! And for what!? Revenge for a dead father's favoritism and a sister's noble dream! No! Your evil ends tonight!"

With that Lancelot charged Morgan, Arondight raised and ready, the intent to end the sorceress' life clear in his eyes. Whether it was due to fatigue from the previous battle or a lack of fear, the jealous daughter of Uther did not simply teleport to Lancelot's blindside before slaying him. Instead she fired spell after spell, altering their angles of approach in order to increase the odds of success, some directed at the former knight himself while others went to the dirt ahead of him. While quick and powerful, the former were not beyond Lancelot's ability to block. The latter took the form of vines, stone hands and arcane spears but they barely managed to graze their target for, with such a strong motivation propelling him onward, the former Knight of the Round Table was fighting in rare form. Barely a glimpse was needed to perceive, evaluate and then counter.

When it was clear that a ranged fight would not be possible, Morgan summoned eldritch armor to protect her body and a single sword that likely represented the totality of her magical might and her resolve.

A holy sword tainted by dishonor versus a sword generated by the blackest heart in all the land.

Was it any wonder that when the two clashed neither looked to be ready to shatter beneath the other's power?

Morgan was not anywhere close to her sister's equal in terms of swordsmanship but she minimized this vulnerability by casting illusions to distract and confuse Lancelot. While not always successful, it did turn what would've been a rather one sided sword fight into a battle where the outcome could swing either way depending on who was the first to miscalculate.

"You will not best me, Fallen Knight!" Morgan proclaimed as she swung her sword, only for it to be parried to the side. "Your time in hiding has weakened you. You are no longer the strongest! Only the STRONGEST has any hope of ending my life!"

"My body may have waned but my spirit burns all the brighter with the desire to avenge the deaths of so many noble souls!" Lancelot roared back, gathering power for a swing of his own. "The souls of Camelot demand vengeance and I will bring it to them!"

Arondight came down from above and this time when the two blades clashed Morgan's defense shook for a bit before effort firmed it up. The drain of maintaining the sword, the strength within her body and casting the distraction spells were beginning to take their toll on the woman. Morgan looked like she realized this as well, causing her attacks to become more frantic as well as incorporating attack spells in with the distractions. However as a result every swing of her sword became sloppier and there were times when its form wavered so, when Lancelot succeeded in knocking the weapon from her hands, it was not surprising.

"This is the end for you!" Lancelot declared, preparing to pounce on the golden opportunity in front of him.

"Perhaps… but where I go I will not be going alone!" Morgan said with a vicious sneer on her face.

For a moment she thought that that meant that the sorceress had some sort of spell at the ready to ensure mutual destruction, but that would not be Morgan's style. The foul woman reveled in in causing misery to her foes and simply taking her opponent into death with her rung false somehow. Only when she felt something from above and raised her gaze did she realize the truth.

"Lancelot! Above!" she cried out to warn him.

The knight did as she bid and looked up, and there he beheld Morgan's arcane sword but instead of dissipating upon travelling beyond the sorceress' ability to maintain it the weapon was descending back to Earth.

However it was not descending to strike down Lancelot… but Guinevere!

Lancelot realized this as well and, without a thought, he brought back his sword before throwing it with expert precision, shattering the energy weapon before it could reach the queen. This time the weapon of the sorceress did indeed dissipate into nothingness as its structural integrity was compromised beyond repair. Relief passed over her heart like a wave at the impressive save…

…but it turned into mounting horror when she heard a strangled gasp from Lancelot.

"NO!" she exclaimed as she moved towards the shore intent on intervening directly.

However, just as she came within steps of the shore, her sister Vivian rose to block her path.

"Sister?" she asked, confused at this sudden opposition.

"You know you cannot interfere, Nimue," Vivian replied, her watery face unflinching. "Our role is merely to set the stage for the desirable future. It is not to take direct action in the shaping process."

"The desirable future is on the verge of being lost! Camelot has fallen! Artoria and her knights have fallen!" she pleaded, knowing her time for saving Lancelot was growing shorter. "Our only hope is Lancelot and Guinevere! We must save them!"

"No. If Camelot and all who supported it have been lost then we will let the embers die and begin anew once a suitable beacon has been born," Vivian said, not moving from her position, figuratively or literally. "It may take time but, for beings such as the two of us, we have all the time in the world."

It had always been this way.

Where she had been the sort to let her emotions guide her actions, Vivian put her faith in calm and well thought out decisions that took in the big picture. In most cases her sister proved capable of persuading her of the wisdom of her strategies but in this she could not agree. While the humans did not live as long as their kind did or possess the ability to perceive the different aspects of the world, they had a worth equal to any fairy. It was why the two of them had been tasked with setting the conditions for a beacon, a leader, to appear in order to guide humanity out of the dark times that surrounded them.

But to simply let this wonderful dream of nobility perish because they could start over did not sit well with her.

She was about to press her case once more when she heard yet another strangled gasp but this time it was female in nature. Fearing it was Guinevere, she turned to the queen only to find the woman unharmed and that caused her to yank her gaze to the only other woman present.

Morgan Le Fey.

"Y-you… are not… the… only one… who refuses… to die… alone…" Lancelot ground out, a black blade buried to the hilt in his stomach and blood dribbling from his mouth.

Looking at Morgan, she was surprised to see that somehow Lancelot had come into the possession of a dagger that was both similar yet different to the one that the sorceress had used on him. However, while the knife that was embedded in Lancelot was indeed fatally placed, it looked to have no more special properties than to allow it to pierce armor effortlessly, the one plunged into Morgan more sinister in nature. Within seconds of her eyes perceiving what'd happened, the blonde sorceress' skin began to lose its color and in fright she pulled herself off the blade while letting go of the one she'd used on Lancelot.

"…you… sh-should not be… so careless…" Lancelot laughed with a malicious grin. "…though it seems… like that one… has s-something… extra… ungh!"

His fatal wound finally taking its toll, Lancelot dropped to one knee even as he spat up a mouthful of blood to stain the grass beneath him. However he soon recovered to sneer victoriously at Morgan La Fey, knowing that with his unexpected move he'd managed to gain a measure of vengeance for those of noble heart that had their dreams for the future shattered.

"Curse you… CURSE YOU! This is not the end! I will not permit this to be the end!" Morgan screamed even as her body continued to deteriorate. "Mark my words, Lancelot! Mark them WELL! Vengeance will come for you, you and all those of your bloodline, and I shall make it EVERLASTING!"

With one final scream of irrational fury Morgan appeared to evaporate into nothingness but she knew better than to take what she saw at face value. Sorcery was the manipulation of energy and matter to perform specific acts. Those that abided by the laws of nature, if not the world, were widely considered to be white magic and beneficial towards others. Those that violated these laws or tried to bring about the unnatural were considered to be black magic, with precious few methods bringing anything but pain or death. For one so obsessed with revenge and making her enemies suffer, she had little doubt that Morgan had reached deep into the darkness to gain what she desired.

Such darkness opened up many avenues for escaping death if one was willing to pay the price.

This could very well not be the last the world would see of Morgan Le Fay.

Turning back to Lancelot, she saw that Guinevere had rushed to his side, tears streaming down her cheeks as the fate of one who owned her heart became clear.

"Lancelot… you cannot… you CANNOT leave me!" Guinevere pleaded as she held her love in her arms. "You're all I have left!"

"You know… that isn't true… my love." Lancelot said softly as life began to leave him. "Return… to France. Your most… important duty… lies there."

These words seemed to temporarily disperse the woman's worry and sorrow, as though a memory had been triggered by Lancelot's words. In the end, with a sad look on her face, she nodded, tears still trickling down her cheeks.

"Oh ladies of the lake… I… have a… request…" Lancelot said, his words barely louder than a whisper.

"Speak it, Knight of the Round. We will listen even if we cannot promise to grant it." Vivian said, speaking with far less comfort than she would've been.

"Find… Arondight. Keep it… safe." Lancelot requested, his voice losing its strength all the while. "A day… will come when… it will be needed… and one will come to… claim it. The light… of the lake… will… shine… a… gain…"

With that Sir Lancelot Du Lac, proud knight of the Round Table, perished by the lake in the arms of the woman he loved.

Her eyes lowered in sadness as the spark that was intended to bring light to the world faded almost unto nothingness. Her wish to believe that the light might one day be rekindled motivated her to do as Lancelot requested regarding Arondight.

That and one other thing that was almost as powerful.

Time passed.

Fact became legend and legend into myth.

Before too long the entire world came to believe that King Arther and Camelot were nothing more than a tale of fantasy. That it was the story of a king too noble to be real and a kingdom too wonderful to have existed. Scholars and skeptics alike attributed elements of the story to more realistic people, places and things with the more fantastic elements dismissed as mere flavoring for the listeners.

Nevertheless, the tale of Arthur inspired many to try and follow his example.

Some did this merely by making a knight's code of ethics their own while others tried something more grandiose such as creating a kingdom just as great as Camelot.

Not surprisingly the more humble ones fared better than the ambitious ones.

Still, the number of times a person failed to adhere to the code of a knight without fail or create a kingdom of true nobility was seen as further proof that the story of King Arthur was fiction.

Indeed, as reason, logic and eventually science became the tools of choice for humanity and mankind trusted them to lead them to the truth.

Magic and the supernatural were the enemies of such tools, thus they were dismissed as nonsense.

Too bad for most of humanity denying something's existence does not make it so.

 _ **October 28**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1997**_

 _ **Sunnydale, California, USA**_

 _ **Ethan's Costume Shop**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _I cannot for the life of me understand why she's so obsessed with an undead corpse,_ he thought as he turned away from where Buffy and Willow were fawning over some fluffy dress.

To him it was a purely black and white situation.

Angel was a vampire; a corpse animated by a demonic spirit and somehow now under the control of a human soul supposedly of the original owner. He was an animated corpse that couldn't take sunlight and holy objects. An animated corpse that would never get old physically and would go on forever so long as he consumed a steady supply of blood. It was also a scientific fact that corpses could play host to any one of a number of diseases that Angel could be completely ignorant of but could seriously harm Buffy even if she was the Slayer. He could go on but he knew there was no point. He'd already voiced his dislike of Deadboy and his disapproval of the relationship Buffy had with him but it hadn't even been considered. Either it was written off as jealousy or the girls just went all wishy washy with romance, squealing about how romantic it was for opposites to fall in love with one another.

Against teenage dreams of romance, his rational thoughts held no sway.

Strolling through the store, he let his eyes wander as he tried to find something that suited his tastes. There were several classic superhero costumes hanging from hooks, along with the traditional monsters, but neither really appealed to him too much. The hero costumes were good but, much like their comic book counterparts, were made of materials intended to show off the muscles of those wearing them. Even with the progress he'd made with his body thanks to helping Buffy out with the slaying, he still wasn't confident enough to put his body on display like that. If he could bulk up a bit and get more definition with his muscles, perhaps, but he was a long way from managing that.

As for the monster costumes he just couldn't honesty wear them considering he'd either helped kill or probably would help kill them in the future. Dracula was a vampire so he hated the character with a fiery passion. Frankenstein was a little too like Chris Epps and his brother Daryl. The mummy… the mummy reminded him of Ampata and, while he understood the need to stop the Incan princess, he also didn't blame her for the lives she took. She was just trying to live, to live the life that'd been taken from her, and it was just crappy luck that she needed to drain people dry in order to make that possible. It was a crappy turn of luck just like Buffy getting Called to be the Slayer.

Nothing more.

It wasn't until he got to a small section, separate from the others, that he saw outfits that caught his eye. Being a comic book fan he'd read all sorts, from the traditional American ones to a few foreign ones that the local comic book and trading card shop occasionally got. From what he could see several of the costumes in this small section looked like the clothes worn by the main characters of Japanese manga, both male as well as female.

Deciding that it'd definitely set him apart from the rest of the chaperones, he began to look through the various options for guys in the section. Each one he evaluated by imagining how he'd look on it and how much he could remember about the character. He kept this up for about five minutes before he hit the jackpot in the form of a long-sleeved hooded cloak with a black cross with a snake draped around it. Taking the costume off the hook, he held it out in front of himself to get a better look at it and was pleased to see that almost all of the necessary pieces were there… except for the automail. He checked all over for it but couldn't find it.

 _I guess I could just wrap some tinfoil around my arm,_ he thought as his resourceful mind came up with cheap alternatives. _Get a white glove somewhere here. It wouldn't be perfect but it'd do for the time being._

"Is there something I can do to help you, young man?" a Brit voice asked from behind him.

Not having sensed anyone approach, he jolted in surprise before turning around to face the person that'd surprised the bejeeses out of him. Standing before him was a dark haired man wearing a red dress shirt and gray pants, a smile on his face that everyone in the retail business practiced.

"Don't sneak up on people like that!" he exclaimed as he tried to calm his nerves.

"So sorry about that. Now, is there something wrong with the costume? I noticed you admiring it and then looking rather disappointed," the man asked with mild interest.

"Well, I know who this outfit belongs too and he's supposed to have a robot arm and leg but this costume doesn't have any," he explained, holding up the costume to show it was missing two things.

"Actually it does however they kept pulling the hanger off the hook with their weight," the man said, slowly turning away. "I'll go get them so you can take a look."

With that the man walked off and he was left wondering just what the costume arm and leg could be made of that it'd succeed in pulling a coat hanger off its hook. It was his understanding that most costumes and their associated props were made of cheap materials, with plastic taking the place of metal. Even if the leg and arm were made of quality plastics and solid pieces, they wouldn't be enough to pull everything to the floor.

He got his answer a short while later when the man returned carrying two metal limbs, an arm and a leg, and they were indeed made out of real metal. He could see straps where both opened up so you could put them on and, from the looks of things, Velcro was used to close things up placed in such a way that the contact points could be folded under the metal parts. Taking one of them from the man, he tested the sturdiness of the metal as well as the fabric beneath it, finding the former to be quality and the latter to be stretchy enough to wrap around his leg without difficulty. The arm looked to be the same, with both limbs being damn good copies of the ones drawn in the manga, to the point where you could almost believe they were real prosthetic body parts.

Only one thing worried him.

"How much? I only have twenty dollars on me," he confessed, unveiling the limit of his funds.

"Done. I'm new in Sunnydale, so the more people who're satisfied with their purchases, the better," the man said, agreeing to the limit of twenty bucks. "It will encourage future customers to come to me next Halloween."

Made sense.

Sacrifice some profits now for increased sales later.

"Sounds good to me. Let's ring it all up!" he declared with a smile.

With that they proceeded towards the register but along the way he spotted a bin with various costume odds and ends in it that didn't look like they belonged to any one costume. Instead it looked like they could be combined if one was imaginative enough. For him, though, what caught his attention was a pair of white gloves similar to the ones that came with the costume. Now, while the character that he'd be dressing up as was cool enough, there was another one in the manga that made him smile every time he thought of what he could do to vamps if he could do the same thing.

Grinning, he grabbed the gloves to add to the rest of the outfit.

He was pretty sure he could do some quick work with a marker at home to get the right array drawn on it.

If anyone asked why the person he was going out as had it, since there was no mention of it in the manga, he'd just say that shorty got ambitious and decided he'd beat the colonel at his own game.

The kid definitely had the sort of temper that'd inspire such a course of action.

 _ **Across the Atlantic Ocean**_

 _ **Camulodunum, West Yorkshire, Great Britain**_

 _ **October 31**_ _ **st**_

 _ **Deep Within the Oldest Lake in the Area**_

 _ **Nimue's POV**_

How much time had passed?

A thousand years? More?

Even for one of the fairy race for whom time meant something different than it did for humans, she still felt its eroding effects, albeit not as keenly as mankind. Ever since that tragic day so long ago she had sat in the same lake, waiting for the day when a place like Camelot might rise again to help humanity mature and grow. Both she and Vivian had kept watch on the humans through any body of water that proved advantageous looking for the one with the same potential that Artoria had possessed. Some failed miserably while others came close, very close in a few rare cases, but none were good enough for her elder sister in the end. They all possessed some flaw that her sibling believed would only lead to a warping of the intended purpose or simply bring about a fall much sooner than it had in Camelot's case.

It didn't help, of course, that the forces of darkness and the forces of light seemed determined to keep mankind in its place by whatever means necessary.

Or that humanity had chosen to abandon the old ways in favor of their cold science.

Both obstacles stifled the creation of the leader she and her sister desired. With groups like the Powers That Be determined to have their plans followed to the letter, they often acted to block, if not outright ruin, the plans of others if the two ideas did not mesh properly. The forces of darkness worked to hold back man because they knew that their kind were outnumbered substantially and knew that if humanity were to get its act together, their days on Earth would be numbered.

As for the last bit, by abandoning belief in those things that they now considered myth, superstition and nonsense, an impressive obstacle was put in the path she desired humanity walk. Belief, after all, was key to the successful execution of magic and being able to communicate with beings beyond the realm of conventional life forms. Without it spells would fail every time and humans would be lucky to perceive her kind, much less be able to participate in a conversation.

Vivian claimed that there was still hope since various small mage organizations existed throughout the world but she was skeptical about that. The Mage's Association and the Holy Church were two of the most prominent, even if the latter looked down upon former. There were other smaller ones but none of them could match the Association or the Church in terms of numbers or power. In any case, while the total number of people in each association was not small, it still represented only an infinitesimal fraction of the total human population. As such there was only a small chance of finding the one they sought within their ranks and it was entirely possible that the true hopeful was not a part of these organizations at all but existed outside of them. She'd tried to convince Vivian of this but it was the elder sibling's opinion that all those relevant would find their way to an official organization sooner or later.

Too bad sooner or later might not be soon enough.

Humanity was reaching a point where they could destroy themselves and the entire planet either through science or through sorcery. It was also a fact that, while the core elements of good and evil understood the necessity of not overdoing things, there were rogue elements as well as radical factions. Those groups would have no interest in maintaining a balance but would rather work towards achieving total victory over their enemies while acquiring the best possible spoils to enjoy afterwards. Just like the humans, the dangerous elements of the light and the darkness were refining their methods with every attempt at victory, with it only being a matter of time before one of them succeeded.

The world needed a leader!

It needed someone who would finally shatter the chains placed on humanity by those who thought they had the right to control the fate of a species.

One of the governing principles of the mission she and her sister shared was that they could only get the ball rolling but that it was up to the ball to decide what to do after that. However the demons and the Powers That Be didn't just create the circumstances, they used their agents to force things to go in the direction they wanted it to go and the demons did likewise. As such their way, the fairy way, was the most just and fair.

It was as she was about to float off to consume sustenance that she sensed someone at the lake's edge tapping the surface with a finger imbued with magic in a very specific pattern she knew all too well.

Shocked and more than a little curious, she swam towards the edge and, once she got close enough to the surface, she could see that it was a figure in a forest green hooded cloak that was doing the tapping. Upon reaching the surface she drew up the water to create the form she always used when interacting with one of another race.

"For what reason has one of the Elven race come to this lake?" she asked, recognizing one of the oldest and hidden non-human races on the planet.

"Lady Nimue… know that I have come here against the wishes of my people to deliver important news," the she-elf replied, head bowed out of respect. "News of the human world as seen by one of our prophets."

This was indeed serious.

The elves were a tightly knit community and it was almost unthinkable for one of them to act against the will of the whole. More than that, a vision by one of their prophets was a valued treasure that often proved crucial in protecting their people from serious harm. To pass along such information to an outsider, even a fairy, was something that would have serious repercussions when the she-elf returned home. Therefore whatever this vision contained, it was important.

"What did your prophet see?" she asked, waiting with a metaphorically held breath.

"He saw a faraway place shrouded in the mists of hell within which a human town resided. However, within the mists there was a young human male that was not like the others," the she-elf replied with eyes that were serious and never wavered. "Though surrounded by darkness the male is not tainted by it. However soon the mark of the two faced Roman will descend upon the male and a conflict between two sources of luminescence will occur. It will be a conflict that will likely lead to the end of the male."

"Likely?" she asked, knowing that, even with some things depending on interpretation, Elvish visions were usually clearer than 'likely'.

"All that the prophet saw was the male's outline before his right arm and left leg exploded outwards, showering the area with blood and flesh," the she-elf replied, her eyes still focused. "Given that this is a human, we're talking about it is unlikely that he could survive such wounds."

True.

Unless they were of mixed blood with one half being of a particularly hardy race or had the sense to prepare for such an injury, they were almost certain to die.

"While a tragic future to learn that a human will perish by coming into contact with Janus, why have you brought this news to me?" she asked, having been given one more reason to seek a new leader of humanity soon.

"Because one of the luminescence involved bears a close connection to you. A VERY close connection," the she-elf replied, raising a hand to point.

This shocked her so much she almost lost her grip on the water she'd employed to take on physical form. A human male with a light inside of him that reacted poorly when it came into contact with the energy of a deity. A human male with light that was connected very strongly to her and made the she-elf bring her this news. For a split second she thought of one such person who would fit the bill but dismissed it when she considered his worldview and how he'd chosen to spend his days since the last time she'd seen him. The death of his parents had affected him greatly, as had the context in which they'd died. It was these things from which his personal mission sprang forth and, foolishly, her attempt to set him on the right path only made things worse.

However if it was not him, that could only mean…

All at once a possibility entered her mind and, while it seemed borderline fantastic, the knowledge base did indicate that it was not impossible.

"I thank you for this information, fair elf," she said with a respectful bow. "Rest assured that what you have conveyed, I will be put to good use."

"It is an honor to aid a lady of the lake," the she-elf said before standing up and walking away.

Without further delay she abandoned her watery form and descended towards the spot in the lake where from she could travel to virtually any other natural body of water in the world. While she might not know which town the she-elf spoke of, she had the three clues she'd need to get there: demonic energy, an inner luminescence connected to her and the presence of Janus. Once she reached the gateway she would reach out for and zero in on a place where all three things were present.

That would be where she would go.

She would go to save the light and perhaps use it to create the spark of change the world needed.

 _ **Sunnydale, California, USA**_

 _ **The Summers Residence**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _This is gonna be cool even if it means I gotta chaperone a bunch of elementary kids,_ he thought as he stepped up to the front door of Buffy's house.

He'd managed to sneak back into his house after school and get to the place where he'd hidden his Halloween costume without too much trouble. It'd been hidden beneath a bunch of old power tools that Tony had once used but had since abandoned in favor of booze bottles of various sizes. After that he'd gotten dressed and, with a little work, managed to get the fake metal limbs wrapped around his own without too much difficulty. He'd been a bit worried that he'd wind up stretching the metal parts too far away from one another and exposing the elastic material beneath, but after looking in a mirror he was satisfied. It still looked precisely the way it did in the manga and it wasn't hard at all for him to move about. After that he'd grabbed a marker, one of the manga volumes that clearly showed the alchemic array he wanted, and draw the image onto the second set of gloves he'd purchased. With everything completed he left his home and headed for Buffy's place since that's the place they agreed to meet up before heading to the school.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He didn't have to wait long for someone to come to the door, nor had he expected to have to wait long. With the sound of footsteps reaching his ears he soon beheld the door opening to reveal one Joyce Summers, mother of Buffy 'The Vampire Slayer' Summers, and baker of some of the finest cookies he'd ever eaten. What surprised him a bit, though, was the fact that she didn't look like she usually did when he came over to see her daughter.

The thing that stood out the most at first was the big old mess of hair on her head that almost went all the way down to her feet. Only loosely controlled by a purple strip of fabric, he was left wondering if the wig (at least he assumed it was a wig) was supposed to look like that or if it'd gotten messed up somehow. Next came a dark green, light green and white colored outfit that definitely made him think that it'd come out of a cartoon rather than some live action show.

All in all it was unique but it also caused an itch to be born in the back of his head because he was sure it was something he should be able to identify.

"What's with the dress up, Missus S? I didn't think you'd get into the holiday spirit," he said, finishing his appraisal of her appearance.

"I'm hosting a Halloween party at the gallery and one of the requirements I sent out with the invitations was that they had to dress up as someone or something featured there," Missus S replied as she gestured for him to enter. "I could hardly be the odd one out, could I?"

"Guess not but… your outfit doesn't strike me as a Mona Lisa or a Van Gogh type outfit."

"Well, I guess you're right about that," she said in agreement as she closed the door behind him. "I got the idea from one of the Japanese artists that sends me paintings every now and again. Most the time he just does Edo period paintings but, according to the note he sent, he got the costume idea from his daughter when asked him to do it. She challenged him to do something based on contemporary Japanese TV and apparently this is what he took a liking to."

"Well, he has good taste, I can tell you that," he said before letting a goofy smirk show on his face. "Maybe you should hire him to do a portrait of you? Put it right in front of the gallery so everyone'll know who owns it."

Joyce just laughed at that but he could see a bit of a blush on her cheeks at the compliment that he'd mixed in with his humor.

Hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs, he looked and saw Buffy stepping into view, wearing the poofy dress she'd been gushing over at the costume shop. While he couldn't lie and say she didn't look good in it, he also had no intention of reinforcing her puppy love attraction to Deadboy by complimenting her on it, even if he did consider her a friend. If he couldn't outright reject or discourage the relationship, he'd have to content himself with doing absolutely nothing to encourage it. Fortunately for him Giles wasn't doing anything to encourage it either.

"Nice outfit, Xan," Buffy said, striding down the stairs, "but who're you supposed to be?"

"Allow me to present myself: Lieutenant Edward Mustang, State Alchemist." He performed a crisp military salute.

He knew he could've just gone as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, but he didn't think it'd work since the character was shorter than the average adult woman. Plus it'd be easier to explain to any interested people that he was the godson of Edward Elric and the biological son of Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. It also saved him from the trouble of having kids pull at the long blonde hair of the wig that'd come with the costume, since he just KNEW that one of the kids would try something like that. It'd also explain why he had white gloves that had the alchemic array Roy used to earn the name 'The Flame Alchemist'.

"State Alchemist? Like some kind of scientist?" Buffy asked, not quite seeing how the costume he wore fit such a job.

"Something like that," he replied, figuring that trying to explain things was pointless.

While not ignorant of pop culture, Buffy's interests tended to favor the mainstream forms of entertainment, so she'd probably never even heard of Japanese manga, never mind read one of the translated copies.

"Well, wait until you see Willow!" Buffy said, turning to look back up the stairs. "She's a complete-"

Looking in the same direction as Buffy, he'd expected to see something daring and bold since he knew the blonde wanted to do what she could to convince Willow to come out of her shell. Instead what he saw was a figure wearing a ghost costume that concealed everything from head to toe. There was no mistaking the disappointment on Buffy's face but to him this was nothing new. While in the beginning his best friend had been like anyone else in that she wished to dress up like her heroes or as something that others would think of as cool. However a run-in with a particularly cruel bunch of trick or treaters a few years older than her had left her an emotional mess and from that day on she'd only chosen concealing costumes. Apparently Buffy had tried to put his best bud into something more sexy and daring but it'd all collapsed probably around the time Willow'd heard his voice.

"Nice boo you got there, Willow," he said with a reassuring smile.

"You look good, too, Xander," Willow said with a muffled voice.

"Well, we'd better get going," Buffy said, heading for the door. "We've got just enough time to get there before Snyder's deadline."

"You three be careful out there. Take care of the kids," Missus S said as the door opened. "I'll make sure to have some snacks waiting for you when you get back later."

"Thanks, Missus S!" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"C'mon, Xan! The clock's ticking!" Buffy snapped, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him towards the door.

With only a halfhearted wave he left the house, hoping that the kids he got stuck with didn't turn out to be brats and would be receptive to the idea of learning the art of getting the most sweets from him.

If they did turn out to be brats it was going to be a LONG two hours.

 _ **A Lake A Short Distance From Sunnydale's Outermost Edge**_

 _ **Nimue's POV**_

 _Curse that mortal sorcerer for warding Sunnydale so well!_ she thought as she rose from the water, taking on her humanoid form.

It had not taken her long to find a place where all the elements of the prophet's vision existed in close proximity but a town built atop a Hellmouth was not a place she would normally want to go. To fairies such places were akin to the foulest smelling swamps capable of being imagined by a mortal's mind and therefore were avoided. In this case, though, she had no other option if what she thought was going to happen did wind up happening. Thus she had made several attempts to open a pathway to a body of water closest to her target only to be opposed by a series of wards that denied her access. Recognizing them as a form of human magic, she had used her centuries of learning and experience to attempt to pierce them but, as time continued to flow, she changed her objective to this lake since it was outside of the ward's field of effect.

Now she had to do something that few fairies tried because of the risk involved.

She had to use her magic to create a physical body.

Normally her kind were completely invisible to the other races unless they used a medium, water in her case, to create a host body that could be perceived by those races. However in those situations they never strayed far from the environment with which they shared an affinity. For her sister and her they never strayed far from the water's edge and made sure that she could return to it in the blink of an eye. In this case, however, she would need to form a body that would allow her to cross the distance between where she was and where the one she sought was currently located.

Drawing upon the power of her element, she began to infuse her form with more power, granting it greater resiliency and longevity than it otherwise would've had. She then began to draw more water from the lake to compress it within her form without having to expand the size of the body she was creating. While part of her power came from her soul, the rest of it came from her chosen element, so by storing additional water within she could extend the time limit for staying away from a body of water. Finally she used her power to influence the dirt and the vegetation at the lakes edge to coat her liquid form in 'skin' and 'hair' in order to better blend in with the humans that lived in the town. It would not be perfect, the elements of her coating could not be anything but what they were, after all, but they would grant a greater solidity than water and an illusion would at least make her appear human.

It was with mild fatigue that she completed her work, judging that it would last long enough to do what she wished to do and return to the lake before her existence was put in danger. Satisfied with her work, she ran towards the town covered in the mists of hell, hoping that, while she could not travel there directly via water, she could still enter it physically. As she felt herself pass through the wards that'd originally blocked her, she felt more optimistic about her chances even if her caution also increased. She had indeed entered the formerly obstructed area without difficulty but she knew that the constructor of the wards would definitely have detected her passage. Whether or not this person would act to obstruct her further was uncertain but she was determined to prevent the vision of the Elven prophet from coming to pass.

She would prevent the light of the lake from being extinguished.

She would save the one she had waited so long for!

It took a couple of minutes to get deep into the town but, once she was there she cast out a net with her senses to find the one she sought. Already she could sense the gathering power of Janus but from what she could discern it had not yet been put to any real use. However she could also sense that it would not be long before the contrary light would unleash its effects and the nightmare would spring forth like a deadly cloud. It was after a few minutes of looking that she found what she sought and she could not help but smile broadly at what her senses were telling her firsthand.

The luminescence that the Elven prophet spoke of did have a connection to her but in such a profound way that no description was adequate.

Locking her senses on the source she began to run, once more navigating the streets in the most direct path possible to the person she wanted to save. She knew she probably looked a little odd, even wearing illusion of an ordinary woman, but she ignored the looks they sent her way. Closer and closer she got, sharpening the lock she had on the luminescence becoming stronger even as it allowed her to learn more about it. The light was not as strong as it'd been in the last man who'd possessed it but it had a tenacity that allowed it to remain pure even when surrounded by the foul air that engulfed the town. There was a strong heart connected to it and a noble spirit, albeit one that felt like it'd been tempered by hardship as well as disappointment. It did not have the shine that Artoria's soul had possessed but it was still encouraging to her nonetheless.

Turning a corner, she finally laid eyes on the one she sought.

A young man of seventeen years with dark brown hair wearing a crimson coat, a black shirt and black pants guiding a group of children along as they collected treats from the various houses. Looking at his face, she could see, if only faintly, a resemblance to the one she remembered from so long ago.

It gave her hope.

Firming her resolve, she began to approach him with the intent of using her power to place spells of protection on him that would keep the power of Janus from touching the young man. It would only require a few minutes of direct contact to place them on him and then she could leave reassured that all hope had not died just yet.

It was when she was halfway to him though that the power that until then had just been gathering strength shifted moods to a deep and powerful longing.

A longing to do what it'd been called upon to do!

"NO!" she cried out, knowing in the depths of her spirit what was about to occur.

The young man heard her and turned to look at her with curious and questioning eyes but a few seconds later it looked as though he could sense the power descending upon him. Unlike the others being touched by the power that made the transition almost instantly, the one she sought suffered a far more painful transition. This was to be expected from two opposing forms of energy colliding with one another and attempting to achieve dominance over the other. The light that was connected to her, however, was diluted whereas Janus' power was pure since it came straight from the source, so even as the former fought against the latter, it was a frantic fight. Physically the young man appeared paralyzed in place by the conflict even as his muscles violently shook in place as the urge to move was countered by the paralysis. Eventually, though, the fight could not be contained within a physical form any longer.

That is when the true horror began.

What started as a single bloody hole bursting through the sleeve of the crimson jacket soon became two, then three, then all at once the length of cloth was rent asunder by the forces unleashed beneath. She gasped in shock at the sight of not an injured arm but simply a bloody stump that only went past the shoulder by an inch or two. The youth cried out in pain but this only served as a signal for yet more suffering to occur as the left pant leg began to follow the lead of the right jacket sleeve. This finally seemed to shatter the paralysis that held the young man upright, causing him to fall to the ground even as the trauma of the lost limbs and the ongoing struggle within him continued to cause him great pain.

It was this change in circumstance that finally broke her own paralysis of shock and, with the speed of a body that was not limited to human standards, she arrived at his side. Drawing on her power she worked to heal his wounds, prioritizing the cessation of the bleeding from the stumps since they would lead to his demise quicker than the war going on within him. However, much to her dismay, she found that using her power to heal only escalated the conflict as it came into contact with the young man's body. Even as she saw signs that her magic was closing the wound, it was a slow process since she was forced to push Janus' power away from the wound in order for any mending to be done.

She winced every time the teenager's voicing of his pain reached a new level and it had her wondering if his mind would survive even if she successfully managed to keep his body from perishing. It was a fact after all that the human mind could only take so much torture, so much pain and suffering, before it shattered becoming a distorted version of itself or retreating inward never to appear again.

"Ahhh!" she exclaimed when a piece of metal that she had not detected near the leg stump was propelled out of the teenager's body and managed to pierce her hand.

Out of reflex she withdrew her hand but as she did so a drop of the power enriched water that made up her current form fell out of the temporary wound…

…And landed on the symbol the youth had drawn on the sole intact glove comprised of a circle with two overlapping pyramids in the middle, a lizard at the inner bottom of the circle and a crude flame icon at the top of the circle.

In response to this contact, the drawing on the glove began to emit a strong blue light even as tiny arcs of energy akin to electricity danced across it.

However before she could worry she felt a surge of power unfamiliar to her and then, out of thin air, a stone structure began to appear little by little. Once it progressed to a certain point she could see a dark grey archway with twin pillars on either side and two slabs on the top. Decorating each pillar and holding up one slab while standing on each the other were obsidian statues of humans, both male and female, and while they were faceless she could tell that each was enduring unimaginable hardship. In the middle were twin doors that met in the center and together they had engraved upon them an almighty eye surrounded by an aura of power, or at least that was what she felt the rays around the eye were meant to convey.

"What… is this?" she asked, never once having seen such an edifice of power or heard of something similar.

"Humans refer to it as The Gate," a voice that defied classification of any kind replied but at the same time was completely understandable.

Turning towards the source, she found herself having as much difficulty perceiving it as she had classifying the qualities of the voice. It was a humanoid form but there was no definition that she could perceive, whether it be the eyes, the nose or even skin tone. Nevertheless her senses could almost perceive the being's nature and it was unmistakable that while The Gate was indeed powerful, the incomprehensible being made it look like a mere toy by comparison. As such she knew that she had to choose every word from there on out carefully yet quickly since she still needed to save the young man in front of her.

"Why has it appeared and why have you come?" she asked, hoping to gain more information in order to understanding the situation better.

"I am one who regulates the exchanges of alchemy and delivers judgment upon those who trespass into the domain of God." The being advanced towards her without moving its legs. "The Gate and I are here because of him."

An overseer.

One who claimed to manage an entire discipline of magic as its domain.

She knew all too well that such beings were often difficult to understand and could become upset without warning, depending on what words were spoken or actions taken.

"He has touched upon your jurisdiction?" she asked, hoping to find out just what the young man's status was so she could choose what to do next.

"Worry not, fairy. He has not broken the rule of equivalent exchange or tread upon God's domain. I was… curious," the being said, very oddly sounding like it was trying to comfort her. "He is one who has become two by another's actions and yet is paying a price without asking for anything. I am uncertain as to how to resolve this contradiction."

 _Equivalent exchange? A process by which for something given up one obtains something of equal value? Then perhaps something can be gained from this,_ she thought as she looked at the youth that'd brought her here.

She only prayed that she did not wind up making things worse.

"Then might I suggest I way to balance the exchange?" she asked, waiting to see if it might be insulting for a fairy like her to suggest anything.

"You have an idea?" the being asked, sounding a bit amused.

"Yes, I do. If you could somehow purge this youth of the power of Janus and keep it from him until the spell cast this night has ended, I believe it would balance the scales," she replied, not wanting to ask for too much but also needing some assistance in healing the teenager.

"A fair reward for the price paid but ultimately pointless," the being said, considering the idea for a moment before shaking its head. "The light within this human has already awakened. He cannot return to the life he had before and, amidst this foul energy, he will likely come to greater harm."

"Then perhaps you have a solution to solve the dilemma?" she asked as respectfully as she could towards the obviously superior being.

"Perhaps, however it will require blessed and enchanted metals in order to carry out," the being said, indeed sounding as though it had a plan in mind.

"Then we are fortunate for I have brought with me blessed metal," she said before summoning from within her being that which she… borrowed… from its place in fairy lands.

While her sister might be content with surveying potential successors from a distance, she preferred to take a more direct approach. Motes of light gathered together, becoming shards and, when they made the journey from energy to steel, their identity became clear. Almost a millennia and a half ago these sharp metal fragments were whole and comprised a sword whose name was spoken of in legend for its role in raising one up to become king. However it had also made that same king arrogant, resulting in the blade being broken when it was pitted against another blade possessing no small amount of power of its own. Ever since then the shards of the broken sword had been kept safe for the day when the next potential king arose so their potential could indeed be confirmed.

When she'd heard of the prophecy of the Elven prophet, she'd felt a calling as though a defining moment was upon the world and this had been enough for her to retrieve the shards.

Upon the last of the sword fragments becoming solid matter once more, she decided to place them close to the youth to see if the calling she'd felt meant what she believed it did. At first there was no reaction from the magic still residing in the shards so she levitated them closer and, once they got to within three inches, an inner golden light began to rise from them. It was not as strong a reaction as when its last wielder pulled it from its grey sheath but the potential was indeed there.

For her that was enough.

"Here is the blessed metal," she said to the being holding the shards out for inspection.

"Then all we require are metals enchanted with strong magic," the being said as it looked about the town, like it could see further and more than any mortal eyes could. "I can see many but they are tainted by dark magic and would only harm him. A few are still pure but they are far from here and he will not live that long."

"What if… what if I used my magic to purify them? Use my own power to make up for whatever might be lost?" she asked, knowing that if she was to gain what she desired she would need to sacrifice something.

"It may be enough. Be warned, though, that even if we succeed you will be quite weak," the being said, pointing out an important piece of information.

Indeed, she likely would be weak, perhaps too weak to make it beyond the wards that'd kept her from travelling directly into the town, but when the teenager on the ground cried out in pain weaker than before, she made her choice.

"I am prepared," she said, eyes firm with resolve.

"Then let us begin," the being said kneeling down to place a hand on the ground.

Like serpents perpetually lunging forth to strike, crackling blue energy fled the point of contact, following random paths until they disappeared from sight. Then, as though the energy was a form of summons, pieces of metal began to be pulled from the ground, cracking the street and sidewalk while also overturning the grass in the front lawns they touched. While most could be considered average industrial metals commonly used by humans, others to her surprise she saw also metals that would never be used for infrastructure but would be used in various forms of magic. In any case, the combination would indeed meet the needs of the being she now found herself working with.

As a result, once the metals were close enough, she brought forth her power, focusing on purifying them of their hellish taint while also imbuing them with arcane energy that would remain for as long as the metal did. Oddly enough the flow of metal fragments did not last as long as she had first thought but that did not mean that the fatigue was less. Given time to pace herself, purifying and enchanting the metal fragments would require at least three days to accomplish but, if the youth close to her was to be saved, she did not have that time. As a result she was forced to push her power, her mind and her skill to their limits in order to accomplish in three minutes what normally would take three days.

In the end her work was done and indeed she could not find any sort of certainty that she would be able to return to the lake outside of town that she used to come to this part of the world.

"The ingredients are gathered and prepared," the being declared with both the fragments she'd brought from home as well as the ones she'd prepared here hovered in the air. "Now I shall show you my design for the young man's salvation."

With movement akin to a steel trap snapping shut, the being clapped both of its hands together before pointing both palms in the direction of the young man. Blue light exploded into existence along with SIGNIFICANTLY more of the electricity-like energy from before but soon it became too much for even her to look at forcing her to turn away.

And when she looked back, she beheld a sight that conclusively confirmed that she'd made the right decision.

 _ **The Apartment of Rupert Giles**_

 _ **November 1**_ _ **st**_ _ **, Evening**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"Uhhhh… why do I feel like Buffy's been using me for a punching bag for twelve hours straight?" he asked as soon as enough coherency and consciousness returned to his mind.

"Suffice it to say that you may prefer that that was the case instead of the truth," G-Man replied with a mix of Brit wit and seriousness.

Opening his eyes, he almost immediately shut them in order to block out the lights from the ceiling. Once his eyes adjusted, though, he opened them and realized that he was in the Watcher's apartment on the couch and of course this led to the ever predictable question: how did I get here?

"What do you remember of Halloween night?" Giles asked in response.

"I remember getting to school and getting a bunch of elementary school kids dumped on me. One of them definitely had plans for pushing all my buttons all night long," he replied, thinking back to what'd probably been a dozen or so hours ago. "We were just about to angle back towards the school when I got this weird feeling and…. and…"

All of a sudden memories of pain, terrible pain, exploded in his mind, causing him to bring his right hand up like he often did after eating ice cream too fast. The pain was pure mental, pure memory, but it was still fresh and it made him wonder what the hell had happened and why he wasn't in a hospital. Anything that could cause a human being that kind of pain was definitely something that'd need medical attention soon afterward but instead he was in G-Man's apartment. To him that meant that whatever had hurt him was not something that modern medicine could deal with and would draw too much attention. That left magic or some kind of demon goo that only the Watcher would be able to fix. As the terrible memories faded, he lowered his right arm but this wound up introducing a new problem to his life: it wasn't the flesh and blood hand he remembered having.

In its place looked like some kind of cyborg arm that was kinda like Edward Elric's from the manga but looked more like the arm armor you'd see a knight of a round table wear. Only real difference was that whoever had made it had designed it so that it'd be slim enough for him to put on a shirt over it if he wanted to. Most of the metal of the arm was white in color, with gold trim along the edges of each piece, with the… the… pauldron, the shoulder piece, having stenciled into it a surprisingly detailed Celtic cross. The cross wasn't solid gold in color but rather had bits of some sort of blue metal mixed in to give the overall design a more artistic flare.

Of course that was when his mind stopped its detached examination of the metallic limb and wondered what the hell it was doing attached to his body.

"What the hell!?" he exclaimed as he got to his feet, only to stumble when he put his left foot down but received the surprise of not receiving the usual tactile stimulus.

Looking down, he could see that what'd been done to his right arm also had been done to his left leg, with clear signs that the designer of the former had also been involved in the latter. The only difference being that instead of a Celtic cross being on at the top of the synthetic limb it was supposed to protect the front of the knee. From this angle he could see that the metal started from about mid-thigh and that there was an interface ring of sorts permanently implanted into his body, with signs that the leg could be detached if necessary.

Of course that wasn't something he was particularly concerned with at the moment.

Nope.

He was more concerned with the fact that on Halloween he had a completely fleshy human body and now he had two limbs replaced with oddly advanced prosthetics. Now some people in his position might've tried to convince themselves that someone had put some kind of costume piece over his arm and leg making it LOOK like he'd lost them but he knew the truth. If he angled either limb just right he could see through clearly to the other side and, when he took the time to tap into his sense of touch, he was getting nothing from the synthetic limbs. He could feel them move because of how the change in position interacted with the 'docks' they were attached to but when he reached out to touch a table he got nothing. No sensation of smoothness or temperature or texture; just how the arm pressed against the dock in response to him pressing the metal hand against the table.

"Giles?" he asked simply, desperately wanting the man to either disprove what his mind believed or at least reassure him that everything could be put back to the way it had been before Halloween.

"From what Buffy and Willow were able to tell me around the time you… lost consciousness, a spell was cast, causing all who bought a costume or an accessory from a specific store turned into whoever or whatever they pretended to be. Willow took on all of the characteristics of a ghost and Buffy genuinely believed she was an eighteenth century noblewoman."

Following that line of logic, it would imply that when he'd been hit with the spell he'd been transformed into the original character from the Fullmetal Alchemist manga.

"But then why… why's this stuff still here?" he asked, gesturing at his mechanical limbs. "Shouldn't it have gone back to normal when the spell broke?"

"If the changes you underwent were more conventional, your limbs would indeed have returned to normal. However, based on the evidence, I fear that your situation is somewhat more dire," Giles replied, looking like a sizeable amount of discomfort was trying to get through his composure.

"What kind of evidence?" he asked and wondered just how bad his situation really was.

For a moment it looked like the Watcher was considering cooking up some kind of lie but instead chose the honesty route.

"Willow found you after the spell took effect and apparently there was quite a bit of blood pooled around you. Your right sleeve and left pant leg had been torn to pieces," Giles replied with an expression that implied the imagery bothered him as well. "There were also… pieces of… flesh… scattered about."

Contrary to what Snyder and some of the other teachers might've thought, he wasn't an idiot.

Blood plus fleshy bits could mean only one thing: the spell had destroyed his natural arm and leg before giving him new metal ones. Therefore, if his real limbs were destroyed, he only had two choices: get used to the metal ones or find a way to get some replacement limbs surgically attached. He would very much like for the latter to be possible but cloning limbs were still in the realm of science fiction and it wasn't like someone would be willing to hack off their arm and leg so he could have them.

"I don't suppose there's a magic spell or something to grow new limbs?" he asked, hoping the supernatural could fix things.

"Sadly healing magic is notoriously difficult to learn and even harder to master. While there do exist those who could probably heal your body or create new limbs for you, their services would not come cheaply," Giles replied, sounding doubtful that success could be found through the occult. "I doubt we could secure their services without the aid of the Council and that is not likely to occur."

"Why not?" he asked, wondering why a group that was supposed to help people would withhold it in his case.

"There is something of a… chasm between the Watcher's Council the organization of magic users known as the Mage's Association, of which the people who could help you are members. Officially the Council wants nothing to do with them due to their reckless and dangerous conduct where sorcery is concerned," Giles replied, sounding like he didn't agree with this viewpoint. "Unofficially the Council has few magic practitioners who can claim to be equal to an educated member of the Association, much less one well versed in useful fields of sorcery. Due to some rather offensive behavior on the part of the Association representatives that first met with the Council three centuries ago, my superiors have chosen to hold a grudge. It would likely take a rather humble and honest apology from the Association's leader coupled with some sort of 'gift' to cause Travers to officially initiate formal relations with them."

"So basically because someone got snotty and someone got pissy, the two groups aren't talking to one another?" he asked with bubbling anger.

"Precisely," Giles replied, looking like he agreed that the two sides should just get over their past issues and cooperate.

"Can't you contact these Association guys yourself?" he asked, figuring that if the Council was the problem then don't involve them.

"Unfortunately the centuries of sour contact between the two organizations has made it so simply picking up a phone and contacting them unlikely. As the Watcher for the current Slayer, it is quite likely they have my name 'flagged' as well as my location," Giles replied, taking his glasses off to clean them. "There are back channels I can employ but it would take weeks for the message to reach someone in the Association and the same amount of time for them to reply. Even if they are able to help, it is likely that they would have to be rather paranoid with their travel plans to ensure they arrived here unobstructed."

In other words, because the Association and the Council couldn't get along, it'd take forever for someone from the former to come and fix him.

Placing one foot on the floor and then the prosthetic one, he attempted to stand only to stumble enough that he had to place a hand on the coffee table to keep from falling to the ground. Adjusting the position of his feet one at a time, he did his best to stand up fully and this time managed it with minimal unsteadiness but it was odd. With his real leg he could feel the floor beneath it in all its tactile texture but with the metal leg he felt nothing beyond some additional pressure where the metal met flesh. If not for that little bit of pressure, he wouldn't know that anything was there at all. The same was the case for the metal right arm as he waved it about again and again with each movement being more vigorous than the last. He could not feel the passage of air above and below his arm but he could sense the shifting of the pressure where the arm prosthesis connected to his torso as he executed the movements.

"It will take some time for you to adjust to your new limbs. Months, perhaps," Giles said gently, looking as though he knew someone who'd lost a limb in the past. "You'll need to relearn much, find out where your center of gravity is, but I imagine that you will have an easier time than most amputees. Even the latest in prosthetic technology cannot compare to your arm and leg. It will just take time."

"In case you've forgotten, I don't exactly have a lot of that," he pointed out as an important bit of data occurred to him. "I've got all day today and Sunday before I have to show up back in school or catch hell from Snyder. I doubt even Wild Bill would bet on me mastering my new body parts by then."

"You could always claim that you were injured Halloween night and need time to recover. That should buy you sufficient time to gain some mastery and the rest can be explained away as lingering side effects," Giles suggested, thinking his idea feasible.

"This is Snyder we're talking about, Giles. SNYDER. I tell him that he'll want an official doctor's note and probably something signed by my parents before he'll believe it," he said, shaking his head in dismissal of the idea. "Willow might be able to pull something off with her computer skills but there's no way in hell either of my folks'll go along with it."

"Yes, I see what you mean. With their ignorance of the truth, it would be more than a little difficult to convince them to play their part in the charade," Giles said, nodding in agreement with the stated flaws. "As for Snyder, that odious troll does seem to have an axe to grind as far as our little group is concerned. Still, give me some time to think on the matter and I am sure that I can devise a solution. In the meantime I suggest you begin getting physically acclimated to your new limbs. Regardless of what route we take from here, I doubt that we will be able to return you to normal anytime soon. So unless you like walking about like a drunken sailor, you'd best work to prevent it."

With his dreams of a quick fix promptly dashed, he reluctantly accepted his current circumstances. Hands at the ready to grab hold of something, he decided the first goal he'd try to reach would be to simply walk around Giles' apartment without falling to the ground or knocking anything over. Once walking was mastered he'd pick things at random to try to pick up with his new metal hand and work towards making it work like his flesh and blood hand.

He wasn't sure how long it'd take before he could actually go out in public and not have people looking at him strangely concerning the way he was moving but he had plenty of motivation.

Keeping himself from being double teamed by Tony Harris and Principal Snyder being at the top of the list.


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my work. Therefore it would be appreciated if no legal action were taken against me because I SO don't have enough money to make it worth it.

 _ **Summers Home**_

 _ **The Next Morning**_

 _ **Buffy's POV**_

 _If I don't find something to pummel soon I'm gonna go NUTS!_ she thought as she walked down the stairs.

What had her in such a bad mood?

The fact that last night she'd searched Sunnydale from one side to another for any sign of the owner of the costume shop, only to have absolutely nothing to show for it. All during the search there'd been two images that'd propelled her onward and even now they were half a thought from surging to the forefront of her mind. The first was finding Xander face down on the street, surrounded by blood and gore, sporting two metal limbs where normal flesh and blood should've been. The second was Xander stumbling as he tried to do something simple like walk around Giles' living room. Up until now she'd always been able to suppress her concerns about her friends getting hurt because of her Calling by thinking that they'd be fine so long as they didn't try to fight by her side. It'd seemed to work since, aside from a few exceptions, they'd never gotten hurt worse than a concussion or something needing a stitch or three.

Now, though, one of her friends had lost two limbs and, according to Giles, it'd take months to find someone capable of mojoing them back to normal.

Willow was taking it the hardest and why wouldn't she be? She had this huge crush on Xander and had almost worked up the courage to show him her hotness, only for this to happen. Now her red haired friend was at home looking up everything she could on the comic book Xander had gotten his costume idea from and after that would probably be reading medical journals on prosthetic limb physical rehabilitation. Neither of them had been particularly happy about Giles telling them it could take months before someone capable of restoring Xander could be contacted, never mind make their way to Sunnydale. It pissed her off that the two groups couldn't get along with each other because of their egos. One was supposed to be devoted to protecting the world from evil and the other was like a school for people who could do magic. Their purpose was to help people and they could help a lot of people if they worked together. Instead, because of some insults thrown around centuries ago, they treated each other as hated rivals at best and enemies at worst.

And because of that her friend had no choice but to go through hardship trying to learn how to walk normally with that metal leg and how to pick things up with his metal arm.

The last time she'd seen him was last night and, while he didn't fall during any of the laps he'd done while they'd been at Giles' place, Xander's gait had been far from steady. Her Watcher had brought a glass of water for her friend to drink after fatigue caught up with him but, when he attempted to grasp it with his metal hand, he accidentally shattered it. Seeing this had caused her discomfort at her friend go through something so hard reach its peak and she'd left, saying that she was going to do one more patrol of Sunnydale.

Entering into the kitchen, she could see her mom by the stove preparing her breakfast like always but, oddly enough, had her hair in a different style than usual. Instead of the shoulder length, slightly curly blonde hair, it was now a bit longer than before and quite scattered in appearance. It wasn't messy, like fresh from bed after a bad night's sleep messy, but more like the hairdresser had taken messy first thing in the morning hair and managed to make it look somewhat stylish.

Honestly she was not sure whether she liked this change or not so she'd keep her thoughts to herself until she had enough info to form an opinion.

"Good morning, dear," Mom said before bringing over a plate of yummy breakfast food. "I'm going to be a little late at the gallery tonight but don't worry I'll make a plate of something for you when you get home. Just toss it in the microwave and it'll be good."

"I thought you set up your new exhibit a week ago," she said, vaguely recalling hearing her mother tell her that a few days before Halloween.

"Yes, well, it seems whatever hallucinogen got into the air Halloween night caused quite a few of the guests at my party to get a little rough with the art pieces," Mom said, sounding a bit stressed by that. "Now I've got to take stock of what's been damaged and how I'm going to explain it to the artists who aren't going to get their creations back in pristine condition."

"You could always tell them that a gang high on PCP got in during the party and started trashing things before you scared them off with a fire axe," she suggested, remembering what'd happened during parent teacher night. "They couldn't blame you for the damage then."

"Somehow I think they're a little more intelligent than that, dear," Mom said with a smirk at the excuse that'd been offered.

 _You'd be surprised what people'll believe, mom,_ she thought as she continued to eat her breakfast.

If there was one thing that both amazed and irritated her it was how easy some people could come up with excuses about the supernatural things they saw and managed to survive. Gangs on PCP, accidental stabbings with barbecue forks in the neck and anomalous releasing of hallucinogenic gas into the air were just a few of the more creative ones. It amazed her because, having encountered some of the same supernatural stuff as the people who'd made up the excuses, she couldn't understand how they'd come up with the lie given how obviously not normal the stuff was. It irritated her because of how much easier her job would be with a bit of understanding and a lot of help as a result of people accepting the truth about what happened on the Hellmouth. It could be downright infuriating having to come up with off the cuff excuses for her efforts to protect people and her own daydreams of having competent members of the S.P.D. to help her were nice.

Nice right up to the point where reality reminded her of how hopeless they were.

"In any case, I should be back before eight," Mom said as she continued to work in the kitchen.

Eight in the evening?

"Are you sure you should be working that late, Mom?" she asked, doing her best to keep things innocent. "Sunnydale's not exactly the quiet town we thought it was. Gas leaks, hallucinogens and gang problems."

"I should be fine as long as I stick to well-lit areas," Mom replied, not sounding too concerned. "Plus if any 'gang members on PCP' get in my way I'll just run them over!" she added with a laugh.

Both because of the image produced in her head and the ridiculousness of her mother doing something like that in real life, she joined in the laughter. Besides, her mother would probably dent up the car big time if she did something like that and she had a pretty good grasp of how they stood from a financial standpoint. They weren't poor and they weren't on welfare but that didn't mean that they could just let expensive bills pile up if they could help it.

With those thoughts she finished her meal before heading out for the day.

She wasn't going to do something stupid like hope for a good day because on the Hellmouth that was daring Murphy to line up something especially sucky to happen.

She had enough bad luck as it was just being the Slayer.

She didn't need any more thankyouveryMUCH!

 _ **Two Weeks Later**_

 _ **The Outside of Sunnydale High School**_

 _ **Night**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _Definitely some mental leftovers from the spell,_ he thought as he continued to work to keep his gait steady and natural. _According to Willow, rehab for someone who lost a limb takes a year. Maybe I'm being ridiculously optimistic but I think I'll be moving like normal in a month._

The first time he'd made a trip back to his room he'd looked through his 'Fullmetal Alchemist' manga to see if there was any mention of how long it'd taken Edward Elric to get used to his automail. Unfortunately the writers hadn't yet mentioned that so, aside from the general amount of time between when the brothers Elric tried to resurrect their mother and the length of the time skip, he had nothing. As a result he'd resolved himself to do all he could to get back to normal as soon as possible and that meant using every spare moment he had practicing walking or picking things up.

He'd already been back to classes but his movements were still unsteady and occasionally he broke whatever he picked up with his automail arm, but he was able to make up excuses to hide the truth. For the walking he said he'd hurt his leg Halloween night and needed time to heal. As for the things he broke he said things that implied that they were of poor quality, cheap or that they'd been tossed in the garbage for some reason by the local school supplies store. He knew that, aside from Buffy and Willow, every other student in the school saw him as the son of the town drunks and expected him to go down the same path as them no matter how hard he tried to change things. So making himself look wimpy by getting hurt on Halloween and using stuff that was thrown out or cheap would only reinforce what they believed.

It would change nothing.

And he'd still prove them wrong by becoming a better person than either of his parents could ever hope to be.

 _Huh? What's that?_ he thought as he noticed someone almost completely shrouded in shadow passing through the school gate, not at all acting normal.

In fact, unless he was mistaken, the person looked like they were running from someone or something but didn't know where their pursuer was at the moment. Considering that this was Sunnydale, it was a safe bet that whatever was inspiring the running was not human. One side effect of being the favorite vacation spot for demons was the fact that human crime was almost nonexistent since any potential crooks often became food for the nonhuman beings. Criminals, after all, preferred to work at night and often chose places most people would overlook, but that would also put them on the menu of the demons that lived in Sunnydale. As a result the only crime that existed in Sunnydale happened during the day and didn't require an overlookable hideout for the perpetrator.

What fit that category?

 _Whatever's going on, the guy needs help,_ he thought as he put his workout on hold and moved towards the guy to find out what the situation was and just how big a threat was headed their way.

Unfortunately that brought up the main problem that he had yet to overcome: walking was fine but trying to run was decidedly less certain.

Because of this he frequently had to reach out to grab something when his balance took a turn for the unsteady and at least twice there was nothing more solid than a bush, resulting in him falling to the ground. Still, he was never the sort of person who'd just throw in the towel over small difficulties like that so he kept on his course, determined to help the man who'd come to Sunnydale High. He might be a realist in that he knew that it was impossible to save everyone but that didn't mean he could just turn away when something was happening right in front of him. It was this thought that caused him to rise each time he fell and proceed in the direction that the man had fled with as much speed as he could muster.

It almost wasn't enough.

He came upon the man trying to get into the school through one of the locked side doors but failing since the guy lacked the key. Less than fifteen feet away from the man was what could only be considered a zombie of some kind but it was so decayed it literally made him sick just to look at it. Based on the way the man was reacting to it, this thing was definitely what the guy had been running from. It confused him a bit because zombies in general weren't really all that scary. They were completely controlled by instinct rather than human level intelligence and, because of their decayed forms, couldn't move all that quickly lest they fall to pieces. Zombies were only dangerous in large numbers and in most of the movies he'd watched they could only turn you into a zombie if they actually got their hands on you, bit you and then killed you. That meant that if you ran fast enough you could put enough distance between yourself and the zombie that it'd likely perish on its own before it could reach you. You could even find a building with solid enough doors and walls to barricade yourself inside until the zombie wore itself out and disintegrated.

So why was this guy so afraid? Was he just not informed on the supernatural or was ignorant of even a single zombie film?

Whatever the case it was clear that the man was likely to die unless something good happened. The question was what could he do? He didn't have the keys to the side entrance and he didn't have the necessary weapons on hand for chopping up a zombie into harmless bits.

He only had his mind and his body.

Taking the man by the hand and trying to run away wouldn't work since he'd only wind up pulling the other man down to the ground or slowing him down by turning him into a makeshift crutch. Fighting the zombie unarmed would be messy and could be exposing him to God knew what kind of gore and possible supernatural side-effects. He had no weapons that could be used at a distance or even from less than six feet away either, so that nixed that possibility nicely.

Amidst one bad idea being struck down repeatedly after another, a possibility surfaced that on the face looked like it was a good match but, when he thought a bit more on it, he thought he'd be pretty stupid to try it. He knew enough that if he tried it he'd probably either fail entirely or suffer some sort of blowback that'd put him in some nasty circumstances.

However, when the zombie thing took two steps towards the frantic man, he realized that he didn't have any other options.

 _God, I seriously hope that you really do have a soft spot for fools, children, little ships named Enterprise and guys named Alexander!_ he thought, bringing both hands up and facing the palms towards one another.

With a single quick movement he clapped his hands together and just as he'd hoped blue and gold energy crackled between and around them. Dropping to one knee he placed both hands on the ground while mentally picturing what he wanted to happen in as much detail as he could manage in one burst. The gathered energy reached out from its point of impact, encircling the zombie once it was close enough, and it was then that things got dramatic. Dirt surged up from the ground, looking like tentacles, arcing mid-air, before colliding above the zombie's head and solidifying somewhat. While he could see small bits of earth fall off the main tendrils he was quite pleased that anything had happened at all considering his lack of knowledge. While the gaps between the tendrils were a bit bigger than he would've liked, he didn't think that the zombie had the motor skills or coordination to slip between them very quickly. If he worked quickly enough then, even with his limited speed, he'd be able to get the terrified guy away before the walking corpse got free.

Of course that was when Murphy decided things were just right for him to have some fun.

Apparently looking solid and being solid were two very different things since, with a backhand that couldn't have very much power in it, the zombie managed to break one of the tendrils. This, of course, led to the entire 'cage' of dirt being dropped on it but, since the zombie was hardly buried or even immobilized, his Hail Mary move pretty much was reduced to a flashy light show and some displaced earth.

Or it should have, only for his little bit of interference to cause what little brains the zombie had to classify him as a threat to be dealt with before resuming its pursuit of the scared man.

 _Shit! Okay… okay… I can still make this work._ He brought up both hands and clenched them into fists. _If I can accidently break stuff with this automail arm then let's see what I can do on purpose!_

Waiting for the zombie to get close enough for him to take a swing at it, he was a little disappointed when it stopped just outside of slugging range before taking a step back in fright. At least he thought it was frightened since it was kinda hard to read the expression on the face of a zombie woman with such degraded features. This puzzled him because, of all the responses he usually got from vampires and demons, fear had never been one of them. To test what he thought the zombie was feeling he took a step forward and that DEFINITELY provoked a response as the walking corpse took two steps away from him.

With a quick bit of process by elimination and his own version of logic, it didn't take him long to realize that the only thing the zombie could be afraid of was his new automail. It was the only thing that'd changed recently and never before had anything unholy, unnatural or unusual ever shown this kind of fear where he was concerned. With this ray of hope he couldn't help but smirk as he darted forward quicker than he thought the zombie could retreat and brought his automail arm up to punch. The zombie tried to bring up its arms to knock him away but it was too little and too late, leaving it to take the metal fist right to the face.

Now when he'd originally chosen to punch the corpse he'd predicted that maybe his automail fist would burn the zombie's skin like a cross would if pressed against a vampire's skin. At most he thought that the blow might gouge out some of the necrotic flesh.

Never in his most bountiful dreams did he expect his fist to spark some sort of energy reaction with the zombie or for its entire body to disintegrate into booger green motes of dust before being swept away by an ethereal wind. Looking around he wondered whether or not this was some sort of trick and maybe the zombie had some sort of power that let it disintegrate but reintegrate someplace else. It was out there and he only thought of it because of his fondness for comic books but he'd rather do something unnecessary than fail to do something necessary. When nothing happened and there were no further signs of trouble he allowed himself to relax, if only a little bit, before turning to the stranger who'd originally been threatened.

"Well, I don't know what this is all about but it looks like you're safe now," he said, putting on his lopsided grin. "Even if the mush for brains isn't fertilizer I doubt it'll be able to cause anyone any trouble."

"I… I… I don't know how you did that, young man, but I very much doubt that this matter is settled," the man, a Brit, said with his fear being diluted somewhat by his confusion. "Eyghon was merely possessing Diedre's corpse. So long as there was another dead or unconscious body for it to jump into close by, it could still be in this dimension. Doesn't matter if it's an animal or an insect. Any tether to this realm will do until it accomplishes its objective."

"And that is?" he asked, hoping that a way existed to eliminate Eyghon's reason for staying around.

"To kill all those involved in bringing it to this realm in the first place," the Brit replied, his fear once more on the rise.

Okay… this might be complicated.

 _ **Sunnydale High School Library**_

 _ **Giles' POV**_

"Giles we've got a problem!" came Xander's voice from the library entrance.

Whirling around, ready to evaluate a potential threat and devise an appropriate solution only to have this thoughts derail at the sight of someone he'd never expected to see again for the rest of his life.

Philip.

"Rupert! You are a sight for sore eyes," Philip exclaimed, looking overjoyed at the sight of an old friend. "I nearly thought that I would not get to you in time. I likely would not have if not for this young magus."

A pit of dread formed within him since there was only one danger that existed would target both him and Philip. Memories of that time flashed in his mind, only adding to the dread. However when his mind snagged on the comment 'young magus' that he found a welcome distraction from the terrible ghost threatening him and Philip.

"Young magus?" he asked, not quite certain what his old friend meant.

"He means, me Giles," Xander replied, providing the missing information.

"What do you mean?" he asked since, to the best of his knowledge, the teenager didn't have the first clue about using magic.

"Somehow he was able to use sorcery to use the dirt outside to form a crude cage around Eyghon. Sadly I would wager that he overreached himself since the cage did not have solidity to hold the demon," Philip explained, drawing the conversation back to him. "However when Eyghon showed fear concerning his prosthetic arm, the young man was swift enough to press his advantage."

"He killed it?" he gasped in disbelief at the possibility of finally being free.

"Unlikely. As you recall Eyghon is a spiritual entity that can only exist in our dimension via host bodies. However, given the visible reaction when his metal fist came into contact with what was left of Diedre's body, we may have some time before it can pursue us." Philip replied with a negative shake of his head.

"Xander? What's this guy talking about?" Buffy asked, sounding a little annoyed by being ignored and left out of the conversation.

"I saw this guy being chased and decided to see if I could help. Turns out I got more than an arm and a leg out of Halloween," Xander replied, apparently choosing to be selective with the facts he spoke of. "As for punching the zombie into dust, your guess is as good as mine. I just saw that it was afraid of my arm and decided to take advantage of that."

 _A fictional variation of Alchemy and an arm that apparently has special properties I never even thought to investigate,_ he thought, ridiculing himself for not making a cursory effort. _Well, no more._

"Take a seat at the table, Xander," he ordered before heading for his office. "If there is something Eyghon fears about your arm it would be wise of us to learn the particulars. If it is something we can replicate or use to protect all of us, it will give us a decided advantage should the demonic spirit return."

Hearing Xander move to obey his order he entered his office to gather the things he would need. Fortunately learning the attributes and composition of mystic items was fairly easy to do and only required more effort when one wished to increase the level of details they desired. If the foul demon of the past could sense this odd quality mired in Diedre's corpse, then there would be little need for the more difficult spells. Unlocking the cabinet where he kept his spell ingredients, he used his memories to select what he required before closing everything back up again and leaving his office.

He did not stay at the table after he set down each of the ingredients but rather went to the stacks to pick up the book he needed. While he could probably remember all the words as well as the steps on his own, he didn't want to take the chance of making a mistake considering what could be at stake for Xander.

"What's all this, Giles?" Buffy asked, giving all the items a once over.

"A simple spell used to determine if an item has any mystical attributes and to display what they are in the form of different aura colors," he replied as he opened the book to the right page. "It is routinely used whenever an item is discovered at a location known to have been involved in magical or demonic events."

With this in mind he began applying the ingredients in the correct order to Xander's metal arm before speaking the incantation that would activate all of them.

"AAHHHH!" Buffy exclaimed as she covered her eyes.

"BLOODY HELL!" he exclaimed himself while shielding his eyes.

"SODDING HELL!" Philip cried out, reflexively looking away.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Xander cried out, turning his head in the opposite direction of his metal arm.

In past instances when he'd used this particular method, the light of the aura given off by an item had never gone past what one would experience having a quality flashlight shone in their face. The items that produced that bright a light were deemed powerful enough that they would be coveted by any mage or witch with ambitious plans that required an edge over their perceived enemies.

The light that came off of Xander's arm on the other hand was more akin to someone being stupid enough to stand in front of a seaside lighthouse's main light one second before it was turned on. Luckily it only lasted a few seconds since the ferocity of the reaction burned through the ingredients used fairly quickly, but he still made a mental note to make sure he was wearing welding goggles next time.

"Did anyone happen to see what color the light was before being blinded?" he asked, unable to recall the information himself.

"I believe it was gold, Rupert," Philip replied, sounding a little disoriented. "I only caught a glimpse before looking away, though."

"Were you able to see it any better, Buffy?" he asked, hoping that the Slayer's superior vision might've seen more.

When he didn't get an immediate reply he looked towards the spot he'd last seen her and beheld a sight that he had not expected in the least. Lying on the floor looking like she was suffering the last few lingering effects of a paralytic drug was Buffy. Rushing to her side he gently helped her into a sitting position but it was clear that, even with a Slayer's resiliency, it would take her a few minutes to return to normal.

"Buffy, are you well?" he asked before realizing it was probably a stupid question.

"What do you think?" Buffy asked, trying to sarcastically glare at him but only partially manage it.

"Very well. Can you explain what happened? Beyond what we already know, of course," he said, desiring to know what precisely could've thrown Buffy for such a loop.

"You did the mojo and the place lit up like the inside of the sun," Buffy said even as she slowly began to regain full mobility. "But the light… it took away my strength in the blink of an eye… so much that I thought I'd suffocate because I didn't have the strength to breath. Then it was gone and Slayer rebound kicked in. Still feel like shit, though."

That would fit with the color Philip saw but it still left him a little baffled as to why a holy object would harm the Slayer essence inside of Buffy. She'd held numerous holy objects since her Calling and he knew from the Watcher diaries that other Slayers had also handled holy objects of varying strength. None, to his knowledge, had suffered such a serious reaction, even if the effects seemed to wear off quickly. It implied something ominous that went against everything he'd been taught as a Watcher but it was for the moment the best explanation for what had just happened.

"Giles? What's going on?" Xander asked as he stood up off the chair and took a step towards them. "Buffy's not hurt, is she?"

He was about to say no but, the moment the blonde Slayer noticed his approach, she used some of her recovered strength and mobility to scramble backwards away from her friend. He could only imagine the feeling of hurt Xander was feeling at the moment but it was a natural human response when approached by something that'd hurt you not too long ago.

Hopefully it'd vanish after a week or so.

"She's fine, Xander. She just needs some time to get her strength back," he said, fully turning to face the young man. "However given the… potency… of her reaction to the light, I would advise keeping your distance for a little while. Just as a precaution, of course."

"Sure. No problem," Xander said with an undercurrent of guilt and hurt.

"Now while we might not have learned much from the spell, we did learn one thing," he said, deciding to conclude matters so that they could all go home. "A reaction of golden aura indicates that, whatever metals your arm is made out of, Xander, they are very much holy in nature."

"You mean like holy water?" Xander asked, looking at his right arm with new eyes.

"An order of magnitude greater if my suspicions are correct," he replied, mentally trying to calculate just how much stronger. "In fact it might well be the case that direct contact with it has sent Eyghon back to his native dimension. We will need to wait a few days to be sure."

"I don't believe it… it's over," Philip gasped at the news as he grasped the back of the nearby chair to steady himself.

"Unless evidence to the contrary presents itself, it would appear so," he said, allowing himself a cautious and measured bit of hope.

Indeed, while he would like to throw his entire being into the sea of hope that Eyghon was truly out of their lives, he didn't want to be blindsided if that turned out not to be the case. Until the tattoo on his arm vanished and a couple of months passed without so much as a terrible dream from the Sleepwalker, he would keep his guard up and advise Philip to do the same.

He just hoped that he didn't get too distracted trying to learn more about Xander's metallic limbs because anything that could exude a holy aura that powerful must have connections to a known artifact. He'd likely need to cast a few more spells to gain the necessary details, like country of origin and the nature of the being that'd imbued the metal with holy energy, but once he had the information things would proceed apace.

If the world was kind he would learn what he needed to know before the forces of darkness decided to eliminate this new source of holy light before it could harm them.

After all, if Xander's metal arm had the strength to banish Eyghon from this realm with a single punch, he could only imagine what it could do to lesser breeds of demon.

 _ **Sunnydale High School**_

 _ **One Week Later**_

 _ **Student Lounge Area**_

 _ **Buffy's POV**_

"'Do I like shrubs?'" she said, voicing the question on her career aptitude test.

"That's between you and your god," Xander said from the chair furthest from her but still close enough to talk to her without yelling.

She couldn't help but feel a little bad about that but it wasn't like she could help it all that much. Ever since Giles cast the spell to see what kind of mojo Xan's robo-arm had, she'd had to keep him at arm's length. Anytime she got too close her Slayer instincts kicked up two notches and classified him as a threat to either be killed or driven off. Right now she was feeling the desire to move further away from him but she stopped herself, not wanting to hurt the feelings of her best guy friend any more than she already had. She'd talked to Giles and asked him why her Slayer essence would flip like it did when hit with the holy light but the man had been as confused as she was. According to him the Slayer essence was the product of a group of mages gathering together potent magic to empower the first Slayer with what she'd need to fight demons. That being the case holy light or mojo shouldn't affect her in the least but it had.

He said he'd look into it and get back to her.

"What'd you put?" she asked Willow in order to get a serious second opinion.

"I came down on the side of shrubs," Willow replied, looking up only briefly before continuing with her own test.

"Go with shrubs! Okay!" she declared, trying to psyche herself up only for it to be replaced with frustration. "Uhhh! I shouldn't even be bothering with this. It's all mootville for me. No matter what my aptitude test says, we already know my deal."

"Yup, high risk, sub-minimum wage…" Xander said, sounding like he was trying to brighten her spirits.

"Pointy wooden things…" she said, following the depressing line of thought.

"Then why are you even taking the test?" Willow asked, only a little confused.

"It's Principal Snyder's hoop of the week," she growled in anger at the memory. "He's not happy unless I'm jumping. Believe me I would NOT be here otherwise."

"You're not even a teensy weensy bit curious about what kinda career you could've had?" Willow asked, trying to convey something positive. "I mean, if you weren't already the Slayer and all."

"Do the words 'sealed in fate' ring any bells for you, Will? Why go there?" she asked rhetorically, not wanting to dwell on what would never be.

"Y'know, with that kind of attitude you could've had a bright future as an employee at the DMV," Xander said, shaking his pencil chastisingly at her.

That simple act, just shaking the pencil at her with the gloved hand that concealed his metal right arm up to the sleeve of his shirt, caused her Slayer side to spike and treat it as a potential hostile act. The impulse wasn't so strong that she couldn't suppress it and keep it from visibly surfacing but it was still a spike and it made her wonder if she and Xan would be able to stay friends with this… this THING getting in the way. She could fight it, WOULD fight it, the best she could but the tension it would create between them wouldn't stay hidden forever. Worse, if her Slayer side started to influence her into staying away from Xander or treating him more like an enemy than a friend, then it might very well wind up costing her Willow, too. While her guy friend might still be oblivious to it, she could tell from the moment she first met the two that the redhead was crushing hard on her best friend. She'd done what she could to help the relationship along, up to and including making it clear to Xander that she just saw him as one of the gals, but little progress had been made.

Because of this crush, though, Willow would be pulled in two directions of loyalty and, given how long she'd known Xander relative to her, it was all but obvious which way the bookworm would go.

She didn't want that.

Willow, Xander and Giles were the only friends she had in the school. Thanks to the messes her Calling got her into, she'd already earned the label of 'freak' and 'pariah' by the rest of the student body.

If she lost them both…

"I'm sorry, it's just... unless Hell freezes over and every vamp in Sunnydale puts in for early retirement, I'd say my future is pretty much a non-issue," she apologized, not willing to lose her two friends without one helluva fight.

She'd never asked to be the Slayer and honestly felt that anyone who did want to be one should have their head examined, not to mention be referred to a very good psychiatrist.

After all, who in their right mind would want a job that'd get them killed within a year or two of taking it and demand that they give up any idea of having a normal life? No one, that's who!

She'd already fought for two years to make sure she had a life and that her Calling didn't swallow it all up and, as far as she was concerned, this was just one more thing sent to break her but it WOULDN'T! She would fight it and she would find some way to make the Slayer side of her stop seeing Xander as a threat and instead see him as an ally. If she had to, she'd talk to Giles about what kind of meditating or whatever she'd have to do to suppress what the Slayer in her was telling her.

She would not lose her friends!

 _ **A Small Clearing Just Outside the Hellmouth's Range of Influence**_

 _ **That Evening**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"So what're we doing here, G-Man?" he asked as the man came to a stop before unpacking the large duffel bag.

"As you know for the last week I've been looking through my books trying to find an artifact or talisman that might explain the reaction your arm gave off in the library," Giles replied as he continued his work. "Sadly nothing even came close to your metal arm or leg. That being the case, our only alternative is to seek one whose ability to perceive the truth far outstrips what a human being is capable of."

"So some sort of truth god?" he asked, figuring that to be the correct choice.

"Not precisely, no. Instead we shall attempt contact with one of the deities most familiar with metal work and magical artifacts," Giles replied as he finished unpacking. "While average craftsmen can only deduce the materials and methods used to create something, a master craftsman who has been around a while can see a creation and easily identify its creator."

"And the reason we came all the way out here?" he asked, looking about at the surrounding trees.

"Depending on what we learn it would be unwise to allow any unwanted eyes or ears to learn of it as well," Giles replied before beginning prep work. "Also, while it is possible to summon this deity from the middle of the Hellmouth's miasma of infernal energy, he does not like it. This could influence his willingness to aid us and I would prefer not to waste either time or resources that way."

That made sense.

If the sheer amount of light that came off his arm was an indicator of how powerful the holy attribute was in the metal, it represented a risk to every demon and vampire in Sunnydale. The bad guys would probably play things safe until they knew more about why his arm was so holy and if he was limited to punching them with it. If tonight they were going to learn the particulars then it'd be best to keep others from finding out since it would shorten the amount of time that they'd have to prepare. It might also make it impossible to beat them if his arm had some Achilles heel that could destroy it. In order to ensure the best possible outcome they needed to keep Sunnydale's nightlife guessing right up to the very end.

It took about fifteen minutes for Giles to finish preparing and, once the Brit was satisfied, the ceremony for summoning the god they wanted to talk to could begin.

What came next was a series of chants, with ingredients tossed in a brazier at the end of each one. With every item thrown in the flames inside changed color or the smoke they gave off did and the results far outshone anything Hollywood was normally capable of. It wasn't until the last chant that the light given off by the brazier took on a life of its own, rising up and changing shape until the face of a forty-something man with an eye patch. Nevertheless there was no mistaking the power hidden behind the image so he made a mental note to be on his best behavior.

"Who calls me here to the edge of hell?" the face asked, its features moving in perfect sync with the words.

"I Rupert, son of Ian, did summon you here, oh mighty Hephestus," Giles replied, bowing with respect and supplication.

"Why have you summoned me here?" the Greek God of the Forge asked with only the barest signs that this was a sentient being rather than a recording.

"This young man, by way of sorcery, has come to possess metal limbs of great complexity from a mortal's point of view," Giles replied, keeping his head lowered. "What troubles me more is the profound holy aura it possesses. I have tried to discern its properties and origin to no avail. Thus I come before you in the hope that the God of the Forge might examine the metal limbs yourself and provide me with the information I desire."

"You are wiser than most of your kind, Rupert, son of Ian, for few in modern times work the forge anymore and even fewer pray to me for aid," Hephestus said, sounding mildly pleased with the request. "In gratitude for your respect for me and the old ways I will grant your request. Bring forth the limbs so that I might gaze upon them."

Giles then straightened up before turning to him and gesturing him forward.

As had been requested by the Watcher he'd come along wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Now he understood the reason for the request and so he walked up to the hovering face and presented his right arm while making sure it was his left leg that was furthest forward. As the eyes of energy fell upon them he could feel a sensation crawling over them that defied description but at the same time did not make him think he was in any danger. The sensation grew in strength in stages, making him believe that the deity was looking even deeper beneath the surface of the metallic prosthetics. Then, as though it were a passing dream, the sensation vanished and the hovering face had an expression of amusement and satisfaction upon it.

"It has been many centuries since I was last so satisfied with bestowing aid upon a mortal. Your right arm and your left leg are both fascinating as well as rare," Hephestus stated, his voice laced with respect.

"Then you know what metal was used in their creation as well as the source of their holy light?" Giles asked, bowing his head once more.

"Indeed I do. First it is not 'metal' but 'metals' that have been forged into the limbs. By my reckoning seven separate, unique and magically powerful metals were used in the creation of each limb," Hephestus replied, turning to look at the Watcher. "Indeed, whoever took the raw materials and shaped them to form the limbs did fine work indeed. I would say that only someone who had mastered working with such materials and creating objects with them could have done this."

"From what we have been able to discern it is likely that it was the Roman God Janus who created them," Giles said, keeping his eyes lowered. "While we did not witness the act itself, Lord Janus' power was at work. One of his mortal followers had called upon his power to cause those wearing enchanted costumes to take on the characteristics of the person they were pretending to be. Based on what the young man has told me, his new limbs match those possessed by his costume personae."

"While I do sense echoes of the two faced Roman's power in the boy, he did not forge the two limbs," Hephestus said with a bit of contempt in his tone. "He possesses not the skill for such fine work."

"Then who?" Giles asked, sounding as confused as he felt.

"I sense that two had a hand in the forging. One is unknown to me but possesses a presence that marks them as an existence above me and my brethren," Hephestus replied, sounding like he'd be looking into matters further on his own. "As for the other there can be no mistaking the involvement of one of the race you humans refer to as 'fairy', or 'yosei' as those from the land of the rising sun call them. Indeed the metals used have been touched thoroughly by the fairy's power. I suspect that the metals it used possessed some manner of taint that the fairy was forced to purify so that they wouldn't harm the young man."

"I assume that he isn't taking about THOSE kind of fairies, G-Man?" he asked, feeling more confused than before.

"No he is not referring to the slang definition of fairy, Xander," Giles replied, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "In this world, alongside humans, demons and deities, there exists lifeforms commonly referred to as Phantasmal species. It is a group term referring to non-human creatures that are commonly found in legends and fantasy. They are born from the thoughts of humans, or when outside reasons cause certain lifeforms to transform."

"You mean things like the Loch Ness Monster and Santa Claus really exist?!" he asked in shock at the revelation.

"Not as such. However creatures like chimera, dragons and harpies do," Giles replied, shaking his head in the negative once. "Only those legendary or fantasy based organisms that humans believe strongly enough in are permitted to exist in this world. If too few people believe that dragons really exist then they will disappear. However if sufficient people do believe that dragons really do exist somewhere in the world then the world will permit them to remain in this reality."

It was an interesting bit of news and he had to admit he'd be interested in finding out firsthand just how many legendary and fantasy based species actually existed in the world. Picturing an entire race filled with little winged people and one of them using their power to create his new metal limbs, he began to grasp how special his arm and leg truly were.

However it did leave one important question to be asked.

"Why would a fairy make me new body parts?" he asked, beating Giles to the punch.

"I suspect that the reason had something to do with this. It comprises the core of your right arm and your left leg," Hephestus replied before a new image took form in front of the face.

It took a while before it resolved into something recognizable but he beheld what looked to be a sword that'd been broken in half. It was all one color, the same color as the face of Hephestus, but with differing intensities to give the image depth as well as details. The sword didn't look like anything he'd seen before so he turned to Giles to see if the Watcher knew, only to find the Brit utterly speechless with eyes wide and the glasses in the right hand in danger of falling from the man's grasp.

"It can't be…" Giles gasped, putting his glasses on before getting closer to the image in an attempt to disprove the conclusion his mind had sprung to.

"What's wrong? You look like someone told you you're next in line to be the King of England," he said, beginning to get an uncertain feeling in his stomach.

"Of course you would choose that phrase," Giles snarked a bit before refocusing on his job. "Unless I am very much mistaken, Xander, this sword is Caliburn. Arthurian legend was something of a hobby of mine during my training to be a Watcher and as luck would have it the Council had scrolls with drawings of the sword."

"You mean this is that sword they say Excalibur is based on?" he asked, remembering the educational program he'd watched with Willow about King Arthur on TV.

Basically the show had taken parts of King Arthur's legend and explained how each had been inspired, derived and based on something real. The host of the show had also pointed out which parts had been purely made up for inspiring purposes or because the author of the folk tale had used 'artistic license' to spice things up for the audience. It was just that kind of world that people refused to believe that fantastic things could exist in reality and insisted on tearing down anything that claimed otherwise.

"No. Contrary to what is commonly known, the truth as recorded by the Watchers Council is quite different. Caliburn, also known as the Golden Sword of Assured Victory, is the sword that Arthur Pendragon pulled from its place in stone to become King. However according to the records the Council possesses, Arthur became arrogant in the beginning due to the power and side effects Caliburn afforded him. During a duel against Sir Lancelot Du Lac the sword was broken and many took that as a sign that hubris had weakened him along with her blade. Once Arthur had fully learned his lesson the Lady of the Lake bestowed upon him a new sword called Excalibur."

"You…you mean…?" he asked, unable to get the entire question out looking at his prosthetic arm.

"Yes. The fairy that created your limbs was at the very least connected to the ones charged with safeguarding the pieces of Caliburn until such time as a new candidate for kingship appeared," Hephestus replied, confirming what he and Giles were thinking. "However if they're now within you then the fairy's actions will have ominous effects on the future."

"You mean… the fairy wants me to be the next King of Briton!?" he exclaimed since that was the only conclusion his brain could come up with for someone using Caliburn as the core of his new limbs.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Hephestus replied oddly, an unreadable expression on his face. "If this was done with the approval of her kin then that could very well be in your future."

"I take it by your words that it is also possible that this fairy could have taken the fragments without the consent of her people to use them in the creation of the two metal prosthetics?" Giles asked, catching on to the phrasing of the information.

"Indeed. My eyes can only perceive how the limbs were made and what materials were used to create them," Hephestus replied with approval. "I cannot know what motivated the fairy to do what she did. Perhaps the being who aided in the creation of the arm and the leg persuaded her to act on her own or forced her take the actions she did. You would likely need to ask the fairy in question to learn the truth."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," he said, not believing for a second that he'd ever get to meet the one who'd given him his new limbs.

"Do not be so skeptical, young man," Hephestus chided, looking him right in the eyes. "You above all others have the right as well as the potential to meet with her."

For a moment he thought that the god merely meant as the possible future king of Briton he had the authority to speak with the fairies but a whisper in the back of his mind made him wonder if there was something more. Was there some other reason why he above all others could meet with the fairy?

"I have done as you requested, Rupert, son of Ian, and so I consider this meeting concluded," Hephestus said as the image of the broken sword vanished. "Fare thee well."

With that the arcane face dispersed and brazier went cold, all manner of heat vanished from it.

"So… what're we going to do, Giles?" he asked, not sure where to go with the present situation.

"I do not have a plan as such but I think it goes without saying that we will need to devise a way to muffle the holy aura of your metal limbs," Giles replied as he began to clean up after himself. "Not only will it make things easier for Buffy but it will also make you less of a target."

"What do you mean?" he asked, not quite connecting the dots in his head.

"It will not take long for word of your arm and its holy attribute to spread across the Hellmouth, especially if you intend to continue fighting alongside Buffy," Giles replied, sounding like his words should be given some weight. "This will likely lead the demonic residents to do one of two things: obtain an unholy weapon of greater strength or find a means by which they can eliminate the threat you represent."

His mind froze at the thought.

The demons of the Hellmouth were indeed going to take notice if he started dusting vampires with a single punch, assuming he managed even that. Depending on how powerful the aura it was, he might well have become a veritable walking church, meaning that it'd be very difficult for any demon to get close to him. That'd put a kink in just about any demon's plans and the more determined ones would certainly take steps to get things 'back to the way they were' by any means necessary.

Either that or find some way to make his advantage over them meaningless.

Neither possibility filled him with the warm fuzzies.

"Then let's get back to the library so you can figure out how to put a muzzle on my arm and leg," he said moving to help the Watcher pack everything back up. "'Cause that kind of attention I DON'T need!"

 _ **Abandoned Warehouse, Sunnydale**_

 _ **Spike's POV**_

"Read it again," he ordered, trying to keep his explosive temper in check.

"Well, I'm not sure. It could be, uh…" Dalton, the newest minion, said as he looked back and forth from the book to him nervously. "Deprimere…ille…bubula…linter."

Deciding to give the man a chance he picked up his Latin to English dictionary and began looking for the words. What he found did not please him and he decided to share it with the one who'd given him the words.

"Debase, the beef, canoe," he said before deciding that perhaps some motivation was needed.

So he punched the fledgling hard enough to knock the newly risen vampire to the ground.

"Why does that strike me as not right?" he asked, adding a displeased voice to the mix.

He was about to make the usual sire to childe threat that had never failed in the past to encourage the production of results when Dru stood up from her chair.

"Spike, come dance?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to take.

"Give us some peace, would you?" he snapped, his anger slipping from its original target to his sire. "Can't you see I'm working?"

Dru recoiled, a pout forming on her face even as she began to whine like a little puppy dog.

After all the years they'd spent together he wasn't surprised that she knew just how to make him cave in no matter what mood he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, kitten," he said as he strode across the floor to her side. "It's just this manuscript. Supposed to hold your cure, but it reads like gibberish. Even Dalton here, the big brain, he can't make heads or tails of it."

His words seemed to comfort her for a moment but then a haunted look came over her causing her to put a hand to her head.

He knew what this meant.

"I…I, I need to change Miss Edith," she said before taking a few steps, only to bring her other hand to her head.

Seeing her bend over and whine alarmed him and he rushed to her side, putting his arms around her even as he helped to straighten her back up.

"Oh, forgive me! You know I can't stand to see you like this," he said before guiding her back over to her chair and sitting her down. "We're runnin' out of time. It's that bloody Slayer! Whenever I turn around she's muckin' up the works!"

"Shh. Shhh. You'll make it right. I know," Dru said, comforting him now in an effort to calm his nerves.

They stayed like that, comforting each other, until not only was Dru's hurt gone but he felt much more in control of himself.

Enough that he wouldn't likely dust Dalton tonight.

Maybe tomorrow night if progress wasn't made but not tonight.

"Well," he said as he walked back over to Dalton, "come on, now. Enlighten me."

"Uh, well, it looks like Latin, but it's not," Dalton said nervously, often stumbling over his own words in an effort to keep from tripping a verbal landmine. "I-I'm not even sure it's, it's a language, actually, I…"

He was getting irritated again.

"Then MAKE IT A LANGUAGE! Isn't that what a transcriber does?!" he asked at yelling volume at the minion.

"Well, not exactly…" Dalton began before being interrupted by the grabbing of the front of the shirt and the sudden absence of the ground beneath his feet.

"I want the cure," he stated, making sure to enunciate every word and make clear how important all this was.

"Don't…" Dru said from her chair.

"Why not? Some people find pain-" he asked before punching Dalton in the stomach, "-very inspirational."

"He can't help you," she said as she looked down at her tarot cards. "Not without… the key."

Looking at the card she was pointing at, it took him only a moment to figure out what she was trying to tell him.

"The key? You mean this book is in some kind of code?" he asked, unable to believe his bad luck.

"Yes," she replied with a nod of her head.

Walking over to her, he arrived just in time to watch her turn over the card she'd been pointing at to reveal a mausoleum image.

"Is that where we'll find this key?" he asked, seeing the first bit of hope he'd spied in a long while.

"Yes," Drue replied once more, nodding at him.

"I'll send the boys out, pronto!" he declared, already picking out mentally some of his more reliable minions.

"Now will you dance?" she asked with one of her beautiful smiles.

"I'll dance with YOU, pet," he replied as he took her hand and pulled her out of the chair. "On the Slayer's grave!"

With his love on her feet he began to spin her about the room, only half trying to make it resemble an actual dance with the rest just being an expression of his rising happiness and optimism. They now knew the path that needed to be taken to decipher the book that held the instructions for bringing his Dru back to full strength. Once this was done they'd have their way with Sunnydale, with the Slayer being the first to experience the difference between facing just him and fighting him along with Dru. It was after all a fact that once she got stronger her ability to use her precognitive abilities would improve, allowing him to see all of the Slayer's moves before they happened. With that kind of knowledge it'd be all too easy for him to set her up for defeat and once he got bored with beating her he'd grab her and show her how he got his name.

He'd probably gotten a little rusty with his railroad spikes and it'd been SO satisfying the last time he'd tortured someone to death with them.

The screaming was just right.

Like music to his ears.

 _ **Sunnydale High School Student Lounge Area**_

 _ **The Next Day, Noon**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _Looks like it's going to be a little while longer,_ he thought as he walked up to the bulletin board where the results of the career aptitude tests had been posted. _Hope Buffy can tough it out._

When they had gotten back from their little meeting with Hephestus Giles had immediately gone to his books to look for ways to suppress the holy energy his limbs were giving off. However most of the spells they found before he'd been forced to go home were not designed to deal with the power that was in his prosthetic arm and leg. If they attempted to cast any of them the spell would either be useless or would shatter under the strain. The Watcher, of course, pledged to look into the matter further whenever he could spare the time but confessed that it could be a couple of days.

Hopefully it wouldn't be too long.

"Oh, here I am," Cordelia said from her position just to the right of the list. "'Personal shopper or motivational speaker'. Neato!

"Motivational speaker? On what?" he asked, falling into his old habit with the school queen. "Ten ways to a more annoying you?"

With a scowl on her face Cordy went back to the list and seemed to be searching for someone else's name. No doubt she was looking for his, expecting that it'd give her some ammunition to fight back with. However when her gaze came to a stop her scowl only got deeper and, with one final glare in his direction she stormed off. Curious at what she'd found he started going through the list until he got to the H to K section, then looked for his last name. It was fairly easy because for some odd reason there weren't that many families in Sunnydale with a last name beginning with H. From there it took less than a second to find himself and when he panned to the right to see what job booth he'd be going to he found… soldier?

Odd but he could see why Cordy hadn't been able to find anything to make fun of him with. For the most part military guys were respected and even admired. Sure, there were always a couple of assholes here and there but most of the members of the armed forces had the same goal.

Protect their home and the people who lived there against all threats.

He could get behind that.

Deciding to share what he'd learned with the others he left the lounge area in search of Buffy and Willow, mentally recalling what class they had before lunch. Using that it wasn't hard to figure out what route they'd take so, with his destination chosen, he began moving at a steady trot, looking completely normal as he moved. It was something of an accomplishment considering how little time had passed since Halloween and indeed Willow had briefly commented at how it shouldn't be possible for his rehab to be advancing so swiftly. He'd just brushed it off as good luck or maybe some subconscious remnants of his costume personae giving him a helping hand. Whatever the reason for him getting his movements back to normal quicker than the docs said was possible for a human being, he wasn't complaining. He'd gotten more than a few odd looks those first few days after Halloween but everyone seemed to accept the lie that he'd gotten injured on Halloween. Now, though, he could safely walk without trouble and, unless something distracted him, he could pick things up without accidentally breaking them.

He wasn't quite at the running stage, though, since he could only get up to just under jogging speed before instability popped up, threatening to send him to the ground.

Still he had faith that he'd get there eventually.

Stepping outside he spotted Willow and Buffy crossing the quad so he altered his course towards them so he could tell them what job he qualified for and find out what they'd qualified for.

"You and Angel are going skating? Alone?" Willow asked, sounding both surprised and excited at the news.

Skating? With Deadboy?

The sexy dance she performed on him at the beginning of the school year had killed any desire he'd had about pursuing a romantic relationship with her but he still didn't approve of Angel. He was a vampire and no pretty words would ever cover this up. Deadboy was a corpse made to move by the demonic spirit inside and currently under the control of a spirit cursed to share space with the evil spirit. Angel was both blessed and cursed by all that it meant to be a vampire. The man with the overly gelled hair would live forever so long as he consumed blood. Deadboy could never have children because his 'gun' didn't even have ammunition. Angel possessed a superhuman body capable of many great physical feats. The walking corpse couldn't do anything during the day without it being an indoor event. The idiot couldn't even get married to Buffy in any kind of holy building since he'd probably be turned to ash if he got too close to one.

The list went on and on about why such a screwed up being shouldn't be romantically involved with a girl not even out of her teens.

Indeed he was of the opinion that, if there was anything resembling a man inside that walking corpse, Angel should devote his entire life just to fighting his own kind.

Basically copy Batman but without seeing any future Robins or Batgirls as anything other than fellow warriors and comrades.

Yet any time he tried to bring his point of view to bear in the presence of either Buffy or Willow, they always fell back on the same lines. That he was jealous. That Angel was a hero. That he was Buffy's soul mate. In the end he just closed his mouth and conceded defeat. So long as both girls were obsessed with their star crossed lovers fantasy, trying to use reason against them was pointless.

That didn't mean that he couldn't still take his shots at Deadboy when the opportunity arose.

"Unless some unforeseen evil pops up. But I'm in full 'see no evil' mode," Buffy replied, showing her resolve not to let anything get in the way of her romantic night out.

"Angel ice-skating," Willow said, sounding astounded by the image in her mind.

"I know. Two worlds collide," Buffy said, conveying the mind blowing nature of the concept.

Deciding that this was the best possible moment to drag things towards safer topics that wouldn't get him glared at by his two friends, he chose that moment to intervene.

"Would you guys say you know me pretty well? Better than anyone else?" he asked, making himself known to the two girls.

"What brought this on?" Buffy asked, sounding both confused and surprised.

"Well, I took a look at the list on the bulletin board and it turns out that I'll be hitting the military booth at the job fair," he replied, putting on his lopsided smile. "They have me slotted as a soldier."

While he'd prefer it to be otherwise, he pretty much expected them to doubt that he'd be able to be a soldier. After all he wasn't involved in any of the usual high school sports and didn't have a body that implied he would be capable of passing the rigorous training of military trainees. Willow would likely be at least somewhat encouraging since that would be what she would see as the obligation of a friend. Buffy would likely try to mimic the redhead but likely put her foot in her own mouth. Buffy tended to trip all over her words whenever she wasn't certain about what to say.

"Well, at least they'll have someone to cook and clean the base while they're away fighting," Buffy said, sounding like that was a good thing.

"Yeah and you can cook pretty good," Willow said, throwing her support behind the Slayer. "Maybe not restaurant level but I've never had any complaints."

Well this wasn't a response he'd been expecting. They were supporting his future but made it clear that they felt it impossible for him to even enter the battlefield itself. They thought he was only good enough to be a cook, a janitor.

This caused a torch of anger to blossom inside of him but it was tempered by his friendship with the two young ladies. It also sparked within the desire to prove them wrong.

Still, at least he had something fire back with.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha. Well I think you'll look nice with your blue dress shirt and black pants," he said with mock approval. "They'll go great with the badge pinned to your chest."

"You mean?!" Buffy asked, proving she was smarter than she looked by connecting the dots.

"Yep. Police," he replied smiling at her discomfort. "Get ready for a life of polyester, doughnuts and brutality!"

This only caused Buffy to whine since she no doubt was imagining several lousy possibilities.

"But… but… doughnuts!" Willow said, predictably trying to cheer her friend up.

"Well, I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it," Buffy whined as they continued walking. "First I have to deal with Giles. He's on this Tony Robbins hyper-efficiency kick. Expects me to check in every day after homeroom. Better get that over with."

For a moment he considered going after her to provide some support but Willow tugging on his shirt sleeve stopped him and he turned to her to see what was the matter.

"You didn't check to see which seminar I was assigned to, did you?" Willow asked, sounding a little worried but also expectant.

"I did, and you weren't," he replied, feeling a little bad given how this could be taken.

"I wasn't what?" Willow asked clearly not understanding.

"On the list," he replied, figuring it'd be best to go with the band aid approach.

"But I handed in my test!" she exclaimed, completely baffled by this development. "I used a number two pencil!"

"Then I guess you musta passed," he said, trying to make the absence of her name sound good.

"It's not the kinda test you pass or fail," she protested, her anxiety rising. "Everyone, no matter what their answers, should be on that list."

"I don't know what to tell you, Will," he said, not liking how this probable bureaucratic cock up could. "Your name wasn't there."

He didn't like what this did to Willow and so he sought the means by which he could cheer her up or at least get her mind off this anomaly.

Fortunately, being the best friend of the redhead, he knew her best coping mechanism for sour feelings.

"Hey, Will? Do you think you could help me with some stuff from chemistry class?" he asked, calling upon the girl's great love of knowledge.

"Sure. I guess," Willow said, forgetting her anxiety for a moment. "But why're you so interested? I usually have to bribe you with Twinkies to get you to study."

"Well… after what happened with the Eyghon demon that was after Giles and how long it's taking for someone from the Mage's Association to get here, I figured I'd make the best of it," he replied, honestly summarizing his thoughts.

"What's Eyghon got to do with it?" she asked, correcting him on the name of the demon.

"Well it looks like I can do the alchemy the character from Fullmetal Alchemist could do but not very good," he explained the direction his thoughts were going in. "That's 'cause I don't have enough info for the first stage of alchemy."

"What's the first stage?" she asked, the light of academic interest in her eyes.

"Comprehension. You have to understand how all the bits and pieces of something are connected and work together from the atoms on up if you want to change it," he replied, guessing she must've forgotten her earlier research into his condition. "That means studying up on chemistry, biology, physics, engineering and math. If I work hard enough without breaking my brain, I might at least be able to pull off the simple stuff."

"Those things aren't exactly easy to learn, Xander," she warned but did not outright oppose. "They're called hard sciences for a reason."

"I know but I figure that since I've proven I can stay in the advanced classes with you that I can pull it off," he said, not letting her concerns get to him. "Besides I've never really had motivation like this before, so who knows what'll happen."

"I guess you're right," she said, conceding his point. "Fine. Let's find a table and you can tell me about the parts you don't understand. We won't be able to do much before afternoon classes start but it'll let me know which books to get from the library to help you."

He quailed at the mention of books since Willow considered one as thick as the Los Angeles phone book to be 'light reading', but the light at the end of the tunnel he'd started down shoved it aside.

Ever since he'd learned about the truth of the world from Buffy and Giles, ever since he'd chosen to fight by her side, he had wondered what he could contribute to the team. He thought for a while that he could just dive in with weapon in hand and back her up but that proved to be painful as well as a miserable failure. He didn't think he could be a big brain like Willow or Giles no matter how hard he tried.

But now… now he found that he had an option that could help him succeed beyond his wildest dreams. After Halloween he just thought that he'd lost two pieces of himself and nothing else. With the Eyghon mess though he now knew he could perform Alchemy just like Edward Elric and, even if he had to wear a muffler to be around Buffy, having Caliburn as part of his metal limbs gave him a weapon. In a way it could be considered the opposite of Hellboy's Right Hand of Doom yet it still would bring doom to the demons he struck with it. It had, after all, been quite a while since Eyghon had been hit with it and they hadn't heard so much as a single word from the demon. If his right arm could do something like that to something Giles had felt could not be defeated, then imagine what it could do to ordinary demons.

He could wind up being more famous than the Slayer if he worked at it.

For a moment he got worried about what Giles had mentioned, about the baddies of Sunnydale deciding to get rid of him if he made too big a splash, and realized that while it'd be nice to be famous there was such a thing as attracting the wrong kind of attention.

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now he needed to do was learn the sciences that would help him perform Alchemy successfully and consistently.

"Not a problem, Willow," he said, putting on his best 'I am ready to learn' grin. "Let's go."

 _ **Spike's Warehouse, Drusilla's Room**_

 _ **Mid-Afternoon**_

 _ **Spike's POV**_

Finally something was going right for a change!

Dalton had made it back with the cross of Du Lac and, while he didn't like it any more than any true vampire would, he could tolerate it long enough for it to work its magic to cure Dru. Looking at her as she stroked the cross despite the wisps of smoke that were produced from her charred skin, he had to smile at the absolute insanity he'd fallen in love with. When you were going to live forever you quickly ran out of things that kept things interesting, but with her cracked brain he never knew what she was going to say or do next. The only thing that remained constant was the love they had for each other and the usual impulses associated with what they were.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"It hums. I can hear it," Dru said dreamily, continuing her stroking.

"Once you're well again, we'll have a coronation down Main Street and invite everyone, and drink for seven days and seven nights," he said, already dreaming up possible activities they could participate in.

"What about the Slayer? She almost blew the whole thing for us. She's trouble," Dalton said, worrying like your typical minion.

And there was the buzz killer right on schedule.

"You *don't* say? Trouble?! She's the gnat in my ear! The gristle in my teeth! She's the bloody thorn in my BLOODY SIDE!" he declared, his temper only getting worse until he kicked a table over.

He'd thought that he had it all tied up in a nice bow when the Annoying One started putting out the word for someone capable of killing a Slayer to come to Sunnyhell. He'd bagged two, after all, and neither of them were all that much trouble. Oh, it was a good row and all but he'd never once in the entire fight thought that he was gonna get dusted. But this new one, this BUFFY, she wasn't like the others. She had FRIENDS. Not that any of them were anything really special but they were decent enough distractions that the blonde could rebound after he'd knocked her about. He'd made a few attempts since then to kill her but it'd never really gone according to plan, so he'd decided to take a step back and focus on healing Dru.

Once she got back to normal, though, everything would start going his way.

"Spike?" Dru asked with concern in her voice.

"We gotta do something. We'll never complete your cure with that *bitch* breathing down our necks," he said before taking a breath to calm himself. "I need to bring in the big guns. They'll take care of her once and for all."

"Big guns?" Dalton asked, utterly clueless.

"The Order of Taraka," he replied, remembering the few times that he'd gotten to see the killers do their job.

He'd been impressed and that wasn't easy considering some of the things he'd done since becoming a vampire.

"The bounty hunters?!" Dalton exclaimed in utter surprise and fear.

"They're coming to my party," Drusilla said as she laid out her tarot cards. "Six of them."

"Six? I agree that the Slayer has to go, luv but it's gonna be expensive enough just affording their usual three pack," he said, having a good grasp of what sort of assets the two of them had put together.

A side benefit of living longer than any human was that you could save up quite a bit of money and valuable baubles.

Still, if you wanted the best, you had to be prepared to pay top dollar.

"The bad girl has gained a squire of the Round. Covered in burning light he is," Dru explained, a hateful frown on her face. "Double the trouble will need double the help."

He frowned as he tried to figure out who Dru could mean based on what he knew of the Slayer's friends. Not the Watcher and the redhead struck him as the bookish type and he'd know.

That only left the whelp who followed the Slayer around like a lovesick puppy dog but he snorted at the idea of him being Dru's knight-wannabe. He'd talked to a few of the local vamps and nothing they'd ever told him made him think that the boy could be anything resembling a threat.

Still… Dru's predictions never failed to come true, even if it took a little deciphering to make sense of her words.

"Fine. I'll ask for six and pay for six," he said with mild reluctance. "But just so you know this means it'll be awhile before we'll be able to leave Sunnydale."

"All will be well," Dru said reassuringly with a smile resuming her stroking of the golden cross. "The lovely animals will come two by two by two and eat the Slayer and the squire down to the last bite. All will be well."

Well if that wasn't a shot of confidence, he didn't know what was.

Now all he needed to do was make a quick trip to Willy's since the slime ball had contacts that could pass on the request to the Order and, once that was done, all he'd have to do was wait for their arrival. Fortunately for him the Order had its killers spread out the world over rather than in one place, so they'd likely choose to send those who were closest to Sunnydale.

So long as they were worth the money he was paying for them, he didn't care who it was.

Once they arrived he'd explain who their targets were AND that they'd only be paid upon successfully terminating both targets.

Successfully as in bringing him the heads of both the Slayer and the whelp since, despite his doubts, the process of elimination put the boy as most likely being this 'squire'.

Even if they failed to kill either of their targets, so long as they kept the White Hats busy long enough for him to cure Dru, that was all that mattered.

Besides, he knew a few blokes they could hit up for either cash or a favor, so they'd have options.

"The Order of Taraka… isn't that a bit overkill? Especially SIX of them?" Dalton asked, having been a vamp long enough to have heard of the order of assassins.

"Maybe, but I've never been one for restraint in any case, so why not?" he replied, finding himself a little interested in seeing how things would go.

He'd be focusing on curing Dru, of course, but maybe he'd have the boys tap into the town's CCTV network so he could follow the action himself.

If nothing else it'd help him make sure the assassin that came back claiming he'd killed the targets was telling the truth.

Good business an' all that.


	3. Things both bad and good come in pairs

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because some people enjoy my stories. Therefore I would greatly appreciate it if no legal action were taken against me.

PS-Positive reviews will be appreciated. Constructive criticism will be considered but not necessarily acted upon. People looking to ruin my day or bully me into giving up as a writer of fan fiction will be ignored at the very least or review blocked at the very worst.

 _ **Sunnydale High School**_

 _ **Student Lounge**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"Willow!" he exclaimed before the two of them began to walk through the lounge. "What are you doing here? Fly! Be free, little bird; you defy category!"

Sure. That was going to happen.

As much as he thought that the whole career fair was a waste of time, he knew that his best friend took things like this all too seriously. While most of it could probably be ascribed to her natural thirst for knowledge and achievement, he knew that at least some of it had to do with her parents. Ira and Sheila Rosenberg had been absent parents for almost as long as he could remember, off to one seminar or another. They were professionals in their field and to hear them talk about it, the few times they were home, they had a responsibility to their chosen vocations to attend these seminars or give them as needed. Willow, being the loving daughter that she was, accepted this and did her best to take care of the house while also doing well in school.

However, even though she never said it, he believed one of the main reasons she dedicated herself to school so much was to earn her parents' approval, praise and give the adults a reason to interact with her. The better she did in school, the more her parents would be motivated to praise her and spend time with her.

However in all the time since he'd met Willow, he'd never known them to deviate from their usual routine of only coming home for the major holidays and their daughter's birthday. No matter how much Willow impressed the teachers or how much extra credit work she did, her parents never did anything that implied that they'd noticed.

Not to him at least.

"I'm looking for Buffy," Willow replied even as she continued to look for the blonde Slayer.

"Oh, she went with Giles about an hour ago. Some kind of field trip," he replied, recalling what he'd learned.

"If she doesn't get back soon, Snyder's really…" Willow said before her eyes widened in recognition, "…done a great job with the fair this year, hasn't he, Xander?"

Thanks to some of the help Willow had always given him in math he knew how to add things up so he quickly figured out what'd likely caused such a change in Willow's manner. Turning half around, he immediately spotted herr Snyder storming towards him and he knew that it was impossible for the man's reasons to be anything that could be defined as good.

"Principal Snyder! Great career fair, sir! Really! In fact, I'm so inspired by your leadership, I'm thinking principal school. I wanna walk in *your* shoes. Not your actual shoes, of course, because you're a tiny person. Not tiny in the small sense, of course. Okay, I'm done now," he said, intentionally doing some Willowbabble to focus the man's ire on him.

No reason for both of them to wilt from the man's venomous words.

"Where is she?" Snyder demanded, glaring at him for an answer.

"Who?" Willow asked, completely missing that he was trying to be the decoy here.

"You know who." Snyder growled, not buying the delaying tactic.

"You mean Buffy?" Willow asked before making a show of looking about the lounge. "I just saw her…"

"And don't feed me that 'I just saw her a minute ago, she's around here somewhere' story," Snyder snapped, breaking off the explanation before it could get more than started.

 _Nice try, Willow,_ he thought as she tried to recover from the smash. _But if you're gonna try to fool the troll, you need to be a little more airtight with your excuses._

Indeed if there was one thing that they'd gotten pretty good at over the years, it was coming up with stories and excuses to cover up things they didn't want someone else to find out about. For him it was often to cover up for his parents or why he couldn't own new stuff like every other kid in his class. For Willow it was why she couldn't get a permission slip signed for a field trip or why she had to skip out on bring a parent to class day because neither of them were in Sunnydale at the time.

Ever since they met Buffy, though, they'd had to cover for each other whenever they needed to be in the library to help research or out on patrol backing Buffy up.

"But I did... just see her a minute ago, and she is... *around* here somewhere!" Willow said, trying to make Snyder believe her.

"For what it's worth…" he said, trying to regain control of the situation.

"It's worth nothing, Harris. Whatever comes out of your mouth is a meaningless waste of breath. An airborne toxic event," Snyder interrupted, making it clear that he thought of Xander Harris as less than dirt.

"Well, I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to be so honest with me. And I can only hope that one day I'm in the position to be that honest with you," he said as politely as he could without giving away what he REALLY meant.

"Fascinating," Snyder said before walking off, no doubt to harass another student.

"Well, love to stay and chat, but I got an appointment with a man on proper saluting protocols," he said as he began to turn towards where he knew the military career booth was located. "Ciao!"

Walking away, he hoped that Willow didn't feel too left out of the whole career fair thing but he personally suspected that something was up since her name hadn't been on the list. His best bud was one of the most intelligent people in the school, one of the few people that Snyder could actually brag about, so the idea that they'd forget about her was ridiculous. Maybe they had something special planned for her, some VIP scout or something like athletes sometimes got, and just hadn't gotten around to telling her yet.

When he got to the military career booth he saw the rep that the nearest military branch office had sent and, oddly enough, it wasn't some gray haired man that could pass as a drill instructor. It'd been what he'd been expecting but instead he got a man in his late twenties with a bit of stubble on his chin and glasses on his nose. As the man took notice of him he got the funniest feeling of recognition but he was fairly sure he'd never seen anyone that looked even remotely like the guy before in his entire life. Nevertheless, the feeling was too strong to be mistaken so he looked through his memories for anything that seemed to fit but he got nothing.

Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him or some other sort of Hellmouth weirdness.

"Well, you're in luck, kid. Out of your entire school who took the career aptitude test, you're the only one who scored right to get sent my way," the guy said with a smile. "Major Donaldson almost called in to scrub the entire thing but I told him that if there was only one kid to meet with then that just meant I had to drop everything on that one person. Lucky you, huh?"

"Yeah. Lucky," he replied, wondering if the guy had been sent here just so the Major could get some peace and quiet.

What followed was a careful walkthrough of the various booklets and pamphlets the guy had brought with him. Mixed in between each one, though, were a few anecdotes and personal stories that either left him laughing or left him gaping, but it made him pay more attention to the normal stuff so it was all good. When the time allotted to the career fair was over with the guy said he'd be back tomorrow to give him another helping.

He honestly didn't know how he felt about that.

Saying his goodbyes, he proceeded to his locker to pick up his books for Biology class, intent on taking in everything the teacher had to say as well as asking a few questions. He'd been doing so ever since the mess with Eyghon and every single time it'd caused the teachers to look at him like he'd grown a second head. Before Buffy he would've brushed it off but, now that he knew about the Hellmouth, it'd caused him to check his shoulders in the bathroom after the first time a teacher had looked at him that way.

No second head so far but he'd keep looking just in case.

After all, it took a while for Marcie to go invisible, so depending on how long it took for the weirdness to notice him, it could be awhile before the second head started to form.

 _Then again maybe the world thinks I've met my quota of weirdness with my arm and leg,_ he thought, getting closer to his locker with every step.

He seriously hoped he didn't have any more weirdness heading his way because he was quite satisfied with what he'd experienced thus far.

 _ **The Military Career Booth**_

 _It's just one thing after another,_ he thought, packing up all the things he'd snagged from the recruitment office in Los Angeles. _If I thought I'd get away with it, I'd break that bastard's jaw for bringing me here._

Still, even with all the insanity, he had to admit that there were times that it worth it.

Just like the one he'd just had.

He'd imagined all sorts of things once he'd enlisted, about what the future held for him, and the possibilities only multiplied with every friend he'd made along the way. Of course no matter how many friends you made there was always one, only one, which stood out amongst the rest as being the most special or the most important. He'd met a friend like that and of course they'd promised to rise up through the ranks together, though to be perfectly honest he'd always believed his friend would go farther than him.

He felt bad when circumstances had forced his life to go in a different direction than his friend but that was life in the military. One day you're coasting along comfortable in your routine and then out of nowhere everything changed, though not necessarily for the better.

Still, as far as a new 'assignment' went, it wasn't too bad, though most people would say it's a little too soon to have an opinion one way or another.

Looking in the direction Alexander Harris went in, though, he was confident that his appraisal was spot on because how many people could say they got to see the next generation. All through the fake presentation he'd slapped together this morning he'd given the teenager's face a look, scrutinizing every feature before comparing it to what existed in his memories. Most of the features were brand new but with sharp eyes like his he'd been able to spot bits and pieces belonging to the two he'd always suspected would get together sooner or later.

It was things like this that made his 'reassignment' worth it.

According to the odious little bald guy who ran the school, the career fair would be going on for another two days before coming to a close. He'd have that long to get to know the kid before the next phase of his 'mission' began.

It'd be a little difficult to do seeing as how he was essentially in the middle of a demilitarized zone, even if the people didn't realize it themselves. When he'd been told the truth of what happened in Sunnydale, he'd found it a lot easier to believe than most people but, given the 'fun' he experienced before his new orders came in, it wasn't surprising. He hadn't seen any of the weirdness personally yet but if it was as bad as he'd been told, it made Sunnydale sound more like a nightmare than reality.

A nightmare where everyone ignored the monsters in their midst even when they had more than enough evidence to suggest something bad was going on.

Though when looking back at his own history and how the people back home had behaved, he guessed it'd be a little hypocritical that he hadn't suspected something sooner.

 _Well, I won't let myself be blind anymore,_ he thought as he finished putting the last of the army representative stuff into the bag he'd borrowed. _And I'll stay true to my friendships, even if it's a lot more long distance than I'd like it to be._

Still, his new 'boss' had been crystal clear about the deal and he'd accepted it, knowing what he'd have to give up.

It was far from an easy decision to make but it was better than the alternative.

"Guess it's true what they say about the future being what you make of it," he muttered to himself as he walked to the nearest exit of the school grounds.

And he planned on making his future as satisfying as possible, even if there were two things that'd keep it from being perfect.

Two things he would likely never see again.

 _ **Sunnydale High School Library**_

 _ **Evening**_

 _ **Willow's POV**_

"So Giles is sure that the vampire who stole his book is connected to the one you slayed last night? Or is it slew?" she asked as she looked at Buffy.

"Both are correct and yes I'm sure. The man who created the cross was a theologian and a mathematician," Giles replied as he emerged from the book stacks. "This article describes an invention of his and it is this that I believe the vampires stole from mausoleum."

"But why'd they steal a cross? They shouldn't have been able to touch it, right?" Xander said, sounding a little confused at the contradicting data.

"Only if the cross still possessed its holy attribute, assuming it possessed one at all. Crosses improvised on the spot gain their power from the strength of the beliefs of the person wielding it," Giles explained as he set the books he'd been carrying on the table. "Crosses that are manufactured by the various religions who use it as one of their belief symbols often bless them, making them that much more powerful than one slapped together on the spot. In this case, however, the cross the vampires stole likely lost what holy power it possessed from exposure to the Hellmouth's energies over time, much like a piece of metal rusting away without proper maintenance."

"So what're they going to do with it?" she asked, trying to come up with a few ideas of her own. "I mean, what could vamps want with a busted holy symbol?"

"The cross was more than a mere symbol," Giles explained as he opened one of the books. "It was used to understand certain mystical texts, to, uh, decipher hidden meanings and so forth."

"So you're saying these vampires went to all this hassle for your basic decoder ring?" Buffy asked, sounding like she found everything a little anti-climactic.

"Uh, actually, yes, I, I suppose I am." Giles replied, looking a little surprised at the apt metaphor.

Taking the book Giles had opened, she began to go through the lines of words quickly, using a few speed reading tricks she'd learned over the years to absorb the information quickly.

"According to this, the guy destroyed every cross except the one buried with him," she said before looking at the others.

"Why destroy your own work?" Buffy asked, sounding mystified.

Understandable since most people, when they make something they're satisfied with, found it hard to destroy it.

"Perhaps he feared what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands?" Giles replied as he began to pace back and forth.

"I don't think they can get any wronger, especially if the fangfaces can get some kind of mojo going," Xander said, sounding like he thought things would be going downhill soon.

"We still have time. Even with the cross, it'll still take some time for them to decipher the contents of the book and gather the needed elements to do anything," Giles said, giving them a silver lining to hold onto.

"How?" she asked, not having any bright ideas at the moment.

"Uh, by learning what's in the book before they do. Which means we can expect work quite late," Giles replied, sounding like he expected a heavy workload. "Once we know what they are planning to accomplish, we will have a better idea of how to counter their efforts."

"Goody! Research party!" she exclaimed, imagining the fun they'd have going through the books.

"Will, you need a life in the worst way," Xander said with a rueful grin on his face.

"Speaking of, I really have to bail, but I promise I'll be back bright and early tomorrow and ready to slay," Buffy said, getting up out of her chair.

"This is a matter of some urgency, Buffy," Giles said, lightly opposing his charge's departure.

"I realize that. Well, you have to admit, I kinda lack in the book area. I mean, you guys are the brains, I'd only be here for moral support anyway," Buffy said, trying to convince her Watcher of her position.

For a moment she wondered why Buffy was so insistent on leaving but then she remembered the conversation they'd had earlier about meeting with Angel for some ice skating and it all made sense. She was trying to get away to meet up with Angel!

"That's untrue, Buffy, you totally contribute," Xander said, lending his support to Giles. "You go for snacks!"

Now a part of her felt angry at her friend trying to trip up the romantic meeting but she chastised herself since it was perfectly plausible that he was just trying to tell Buffy she was more than a pair of fists. Personally she agreed that the Slayer was not the academically handicapped person she thought she was and that, with a little effort, could definitely graduate with top marks. However, just like Xander refused to see her as anything other than a sister, Buffy was certain that she would never live long enough for an in depth education to be of any use. In her mind they were both wrong and, as their friend, she had chosen to do what she could to prove that to them and encourage them to soar ever higher.

To that end she was going to encourage Buffy's relationship to the best of her ability in the hopes that love would convince the Slayer to believe in the future.

"She SHOULD go. Y-y'know, gather her strength," she said, putting forth what was only a half-baked reason.

"Perhaps you're right. There may be fierce battles ahead," Giles conceded, swallowing the excuse she'd come up with.

Thank God!

Seeing the narrowing of the eyes and the frown on his face, she now knew that Xander saw the truth, or at least suspected it. Either way he didn't like it. She felt irritation at this, both because it was a sign that her friend still had romantic feelings for Buffy and because he was letting his hatred of vampires bleed over onto Angel. Couldn't he understand that Angel was different!? Besides, one only had to look at Angel and Buffy when they were together to know that the two loved each other. In a town where nightmares were real and monsters preyed upon the unwary, who did Xander think he was crushing such a beautiful ray of light out of jealousy?

He was getting better at it, keeping his ruinous words to himself, but it would still be a long time before he actually started to support the love that Angel and Buffy felt for each other.

She hoped it didn't happen too late to matter.

At least she'd have time to work on him while she helped him learn more so he could use his Alchemy better. They'd only had a few study sessions so far but she was impressed with how driven he was to learn what she taught him and stunned the few times he wanted to go one chapter further. In the past getting him to study with more than a token effort was like pulling teeth and she had to remind him that if he didn't get good grades, he'd get left behind. The desire to stay with his friends by their side was usually strong enough to give him the kick in the butt he needed to work hard but it needed to be reapplied every so often to keep his effort where it needed to be.

Now, though, Xander was applying himself without any need for incentives and this pleased her greatly.

It gave her hope for his future… and… if life was kind… perhaps THEIR future.

 _ **Noon the Next Day**_

 _ **Sunnydale High School Library**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"This guy was hardcore, Giles. And Angel was power-freaked by that ring," Buffy said, sounding upset even as Giles looked at some ring under a magnifying lamp.

"I'm afraid he was not overreacting. This ring is worn only by members of the Order of Taraka. It's a society of deadly assassins dating back to King Solomon." Giles said before sitting down on a vacant chair.

He almost let his shock and his worry show on his face but quickly locked both emotions down since it would only pass on to the others. It'd always been a secret fear of his that one day Buffy would get so good at her job that the bad guys would eventually hire professionals to take her down. After all, even the dumbest demon could figure out eventually when his hundredth minion died that it was time to try something new. Still, there was no sense letting Buffy get all worked up over this since it'd only make her jumpy and that'd only make things easier for the assassins.

"And didn't they beat the Elks this year in the Sunnydale adult bowling league championships?" he asked, trying to make a joke out of the whole thing to ease the stress levels a bit.

"Their credo is to sow discord and kill the unwary," Giles continued, missing the subtle hint to ease up on the doom and gloom.

"Bowling is a vicious game," he said, deciding to fight fire with fire.

"That's enough, Xander!" Giles snapped with annoyance.

While he did quit the humor efforts, he didn't regret doing them in the first place. While there was a time for seriousness, being wound too tight could often make things worse.

"I realize that you were trying to keep the mood light Xander but this is not the time for that," Giles said with genuine contriteness.

"These assassins, why are they after me?" Buffy asked, sounding worried and confused.

"'Cause you're the scourge of the underworld?" Willow offered, trying to mix a compliment in with the truth.

"I haven't been that scourgey lately," Buffy said defensively.

"I don't know, I don't know," Giles replied, rubbing his eyes before slowly exhaling. "I think the best thing we can do is to find a secure location. Somewhere out of the way you can go until we decide on the best course of action."

 _Bad move, G-Man. Slayer's are Alpha's by nature and telling them to run is only going to result in one thing,_ he thought, seeing this as an example of a smart person doing something stupid.

"Okay, now you and Angel have both said to head for the hills," Buffy said as she got out of her chair. "Are you saying I can't handle this, that I'm not strong enough to fight these people?"

"They're a breed apart, Buffy. U-unlike vampires they have no earthly desires but to collect their bounty. They find a target, and, uh... they eliminate it. You can kill as many of them as you like, it won't make any difference," Giles explained, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation with every word. "Where there's one, there will be another, and another. They won't stop coming until the job is done. Each one of them works alone. His own way. Some are human, some... a-are not. Y-you won't know who they are until they strike."

Looking at Buffy, he could see the Slayer doing her best to keep her cool, to maintain the 'I can handle anything' attitude, but everyone had their breaking point. In the end Buffy spun around the speed walked out of the library, likely to both get away from any more unpleasant news and to come to terms with how the rules of the game had changed.

"I wish there was something we could do for Buffy," Willow said, sounding worried about her sole female friend.

"We can only do what we can do, Willow," he said while pondering some options on his own. "Dig into the info about the cross and what the vamps plan on doing with it and get ready to back her up any way we can."

"How?" she asked, sounding like she wanted some kind of hope to cling to.

"You work with Giles to comb the books on the cross to figure out what the vamps are planning," he replied before mentally marking his goal in his mind. "While you're doing that I'm going to cram as much about fire and air into my head as I can."

"Why?" she asked, now looking confused about the odd combo of subjects.

"Because if I want to force myself to the level of amateur flame alchemist, it's the only way," he replied, remembering whose gloves he had stashed in his dresser at home.

Gloves that were now made of a fabric that was definitely not what it'd been prior to Halloween.

"But we've only started studying!" she exclaimed in opposition to what she'd deduced was his intent.

"That's only if I want to be able to transmute anything," he pointed out, still set on his path. "With flame alchemy all you basically do is adjust the oxygen level in the target area, create a spark and then a path for the spark to travel down in order to ignite the oxygen. If I can get a grasp of all that then the vamps'll get one helluva surprise!"

"That would prove somewhat advantageous. How accurate is this flame alchemy?" Giles asked, interested in learning more.

"In the hands of a pro it can be pretty damn accurate, but for me… the best I can probably do is make it hit the target and anyone standing next to the target," he replied honestly since he figured it'd be years before he became as good as Roy Mustang.

"So if you can manage this, it would be necessary to ensure that any allies are well clear of your targets and limit it to buildings not required to be intact," Giles said, summarizing the criteria of use. "In all likelihood that means only abandoned buildings and vampire nests with fair warning beforehand so the rest of us can get clear. Agreed?"

"Sure. I've got no interest in seeing what crispy Scoobies look like," he replied, agreeing completely.

"Very well. While I am doubtful that you will be able to master this at an even amateurish level in time to aid against the assassins it could provide us with an ace up our proverbial sleeve," Giles said, coming to a decision on the matter. "However you will wait for permission from me before employing it. Are we clear on this?"

"Crystal," he replied, knowing how dangerous playing with fire could be.

"Then I shall let you focus on that while I attempt to discern what the vampires plan on doing with the cross," Giles said. "No practical applications. Just focus on the science behind it. If you can learn enough before we need to confront them, we'll test it someplace isolated. If not… then we will rely on more conventional methods of dealing with them."

"I'll be ready," he said, placing a look of resolve on his face. "Count on it."

With that in mind he and Willow went to the book stacks to pick out anything about fire, oxygen and stuff that might facilitate his ability to perform flame alchemy. Hopefully the classes he'd taken up and the extra effort he'd been putting into classes would make things easier. He sincerely hoped that he didn't need to become as good as some specialist or college professor on the subject in order to make it work because that would take a long time for him to accomplish.

He preferred to think that once he committed the totality of what was taught in high school concerning chemistry, biology, physics, engineering and math, he could perform combat level alchemy. With graduation a little over a year so away, it'd mean he was that close to being able to fight vamps and demons on a level almost equal to that of Buffy.

In a way it could be seen as his graduation from sidekick to a hero in his own right.

That thought alone would be enough to keep him focused on his studies and burning each fact into his brain so he'd never forget it.

This was his origin story in the making and he would do his best to make sure it was worth telling to anyone who wanted to hear it.

 _ **Approaching Willy's Alibi Room**_

 _ **Angel's POV**_

 _Willy better know something about them,_ he thought, getting closer to the favorite bar of vamps and demons. _I don't like the idea of fighting assassins head on, especially without knowing anything about them._

Indeed, with all the stories he'd heard about the Order, trying to fight them head on would only play into the assassins' hands. They needed to know what powers and skills were so that they could counter them and kill them. According to what he knew, the Order only ever sent three after a specific target and only if those three were killed would more be sent in order to fulfill the contract. They'd keep coming one after another until Buffy was dead or fulfilling the contract became too costly in numbers for the Order and for the pocketbook of whoever hired them.

Just how many assassins needed to die before the latter happened he didn't know but he hoped it wouldn't be many.

Stepping through the door, he soon stood in the archway of the bar and saw Willy sweeping up like he always did after a night of serving mankind's enemy. The man was a weasel and would sell out his own mother if necessary. Still, he was also someone who kept a close ear to the murmurings of the unholy community of Sunnydale, even if it was just to make sure that only he made it out alive.

"We're closed! Can't you read the sign?" Willy yelled, likely having heard the door open.

Stepping out of the shadows and into the light, he could tell right when the snitch recognized him.

"Oh, uh... hey, Angel. I didn't recognize you in the dark there. What, uh... what can I do for you tonight?" Willy asked, trying and failing badly to conceal his fear.

"I need some information," he replied, keeping this direct.

"Yeah? Man, that's too bad, 'cause... I'm stayin' away from that whole scene. I'm livin' right, Angel," Willy lied, obviously not wanting to incur the wrath of someone else.

That meant the odds of the rat knowing something had just gone up.

"Sure you are, Willy. And I'm taking up sunbathing," he said, moving over to a pinball machine.

"C'mon, man. Don't be that way! I-I treat you vamps good! I-I-I-I don't hassle you, you don't hassle me... We all enjoy the patronage of this establishment. Everybody's happy, right?" Willy asked, keeping up the innocent 'I do not know anything' act.

He was a lousy actor.

"Who sent them?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't get his answer right away.

"Who sent who?" Willy asked, continuing to beat around the bush.

"The Order of Taraka," he replied plainly, revealing what he knew.

"I-I... I tell ya, I haven't been in the loop," Willy said with increased agitation, implying that he very much was still in the loop.

"Let's try again. The Order of Taraka, they're after the Slayer," he said, coming right out with the situation.

"C'mon man!" Willy whined, trying to beg off having to tell.

"Was it Spike?" he asked, figuring from the beginning that that was that wannabe.

"Look, Angel, I-I got some good pigs' blood in, good stuff, my fence said..." Willy replied, resorting to petty bribery to get out of the current situation.

Enough was enough.

Darting over to the slime he grabbed the man and slammed his head to the surface of the bar, causing an empty glass pitcher to shatter on the floor. Pressing down just hard enough on the bar owner's head to induce pain, he decided to throw a curveball into what Willy thought he knew.

"Damn it! Ah…" Willy groaned out amidst the pain.

"You know, I'm a little rusty when it comes to killing humans," he said, doing his best to make his words convincing. "It could take a while."

"Oh, Spike will draw and quarter me, man!" Willy exclaimed, finally confirming that it was Spike that had hired the Order of Taraka.

"I'll take care of Spike," he said, hoping that this might make Willy less resistant.

"You know he ordered those guys!" Willy yelled as the pain needed an outlet to vent. "Spike's sick of your girl getting in his way!"

Pretty much what he'd suspected from the beginning.

Spike might act all cocky and like a good fight but the bottle blonde got pissy when someone repeatedly got in the way of what he wanted to do. Given what he'd learned since his old 'friends' came to Sunnydale, whatever Spike had planned likely had to do with curing Dru or raising some kind of hell to laugh at. If it was big enough to need the Order to act as distractions, it was something that couldn't be done haphazardly but rather with a measure of precision.

Good to know.

"Where can I find him?" he asked, figuring that Willy might've sniffed that info out.

"I tell you that, I'm gonna need relocating expenses!" Willy said, showing some confidence in his bargaining position. "It'll cost you!"

Bad move.

He increased the pressure just enough to get his point across but not enough to make the coward lose consciousness.

"It'll cost who?" he asked, making it clear that if the information was not freely given it'd cost the seller, not the buyer.

"Okay! Okay! He and that freaky chick of his are-" Willy said before a blow landed on the side of his face sending him to the floor.

It was a powerful blow, marking the one responsible as something more than human and the fact that he hadn't sensed anything approaching him meant it was dangerous. Looking up at where he felt his attacker likely was, he found a girl of chocolate brown skin dressed by someone who only thought they knew what teenage girls wore these days.

And how sad was it that, after spending so much time with Buffy, he could competently say that?

In any case, when he saw her break off a piece of broom handle and wield it in a way he knew only too well, he realized that now was not the time for fashion critiquing. Quickly evading the girl's first thrust with a roll, before getting back to his feet, he immediately ducked a left hook punch from her. The direct thrust that followed hinted that the punch might've been meant to manipulate him into prime staking position but direct attacks were notoriously easy to block or parry.

Too bad the girl followed the thrust with a punch that landed on his face, dazing him, thus leaving him vulnerable to what he thought was a kick that sent him crashing through a door. The momentum doesn't play out until he hit some beer cases but by then he'd already made the decision to take things more seriously by letting his 'game face' come out. The girl is quick to follow him in and tried an overhead downward staking with both hands but, with some skill, he managed to block the attack before grabbing the girl's arms. A little twisting later and the improvised stake fell from her hands but, in order to make sure she didn't get it back, he threw her into a row of lockers on the other side of the backroom.

Moving to deliver a decisive blow his fist only found metal as the door to the locker crumpled under his vampire strength but another thing that got damaged was one of his right ribs thanks to a blow from the girl. He didn't think it was broken but it was quite possible there was a crack, so he decided to return the favor by executing a knee thrust that, while it didn't completely connect, the grunt told him it hurt.

Quickly reorienting himself to face her he executed a series of right and left punches that he'd learned from a boxer friend he'd made a few decades back. Several came within an inch of striking the girl but she must've learned some boxing as well because she was doing a good job bobbing and weaving around his attacks. Keeping the punching up a bit longer, keeping the pressure up to keep any kicks from coming his way, he waited until he was sure she would conclude so he was going to restrict himself to punches.

Then he threw a punch that would put her where he wanted her to be before executing a thrust kick aimed right at her stomach. When it landed it would knock the wind completely out of her sails, allowing him to throw her into the nearby cage and lock her in so he could hold a civil conversation with her.

Or at least that was the plan.

Instead she sidestepped his thrust, grabbed his leg and brought her free elbow down on it, sending pain reverberating throughout the limb. Reflexively he tried to free the limb but with the pain it was only a halfhearted and then, before he could turn things around, she reestablished her grip and violently pulled. As soon as he was off balance she went from a pulled to a swing that, shockingly enough, had him airborne but only for a few seconds before she let him go.

As a result, instead of the girl getting tossed into it he was the one slamming against the wall inside, knocking him in the head. By the time his head cleared the door to the cage was slammed shut and the lock clicked into place before he could get close enough to prevent it. Testing the strength of the cage, he found it to be remarkably resilient, making him think Willy used it to store dangerous animals requested as food by some of the demons that came to the Alibi Room.

"Who are you? If you tell me what I need to know I won't hurt you," he said, trying to convince the girl to release him.

The girl just laughed as she steped away from the locked cage, making it clear she had no intention of freeing him.

"You think this is funny?" he asked with a bit of harshness.

"I tink it is funny now. Dat girl. De one I saw you wit before?" the girl said with a tone that implied nothing good.

"You stay away from her," he warned, making it clear that there would be consequences if she disobeyed.

"I'm afraid you are not in a position to treaten," the girl said, not sounding worried in the least.

"When I get outta here, I'll do more than threaten!" he yelled, letting his anger be vented for the girl to see.

"Den I suggest ya move quickly," she said, looking at the window opposite the cage. "Eastern exposure. De sun will be comin' in a few hours. More dan enough time for me to find your girlfriend."

To this he could only rage against the cage in an effort to get free but the metal stood firm despite his best efforts. He kept it up right until the girl left his line of sight but, even with his fury adding fuel to his vampiric strength, there was no sign that it was doing any good.

Willing calm to come over his body he sat down and began trying to use his head to figure a way out of the cage. It might not be as satisfying or as quick as violently bursting free of the cage but it would likely be more effective in the long run.

He just hoped that he came up with a good idea soon.

Death by sunlight for a vampire was as agonizing as it was short lived.

 _ **1630 Revello Drive**_

 _ **Morning**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _Could've seriously used a lift but I guess I shoulda known that Cordy would've hung up on me,_ he thought, walking up the steps to the front of Buffy's house. _Sure, she wants to know when stuff goes down but she never wants to help out unless she's got no other choice_.

Still, he'd made good time and now he could see if Buffy had run home after the big Teraka talk or gone somewhere else. As much as he could understand her freaking out, going off on her own was playing right into the hands of the assassins. It was pretty much an unwritten rule of being an assassin to strike at your target when they were most vulnerable and that happened to be when they were alone. It'd be better for her to stick around where there were a lot of people milling about since it'd make getting a clear shot difficult.

However Buffy wasn't going to do that since there was also the risk of innocent bystanders getting caught up in the violence and either dying or getting hurt. She'd prefer to take the fighting someplace isolated so that the only one in danger would be her and no one else.

That was why he needed to find her and convince her that the odds of victory were greatest if they stuck together.

Knocking on the door, he waited to hear the sounds of someone getting closer but when they didn't come he went to step two.

"Buffy!" he yelled, just in case she hadn't heard the knocks.

Nothing.

What would the odds be that she was so out of it that she hadn't heard either his voice or the knock on the door?

Small.

With her Slayer senses she would've had no trouble hearing him if she'd been in the house, even if she'd been asleep. That left only three options: she wasn't here, she was unable to respond or she was inside dying or dead. He refused to accept the last possibility and as capturing Buffy was too atypical of what an assassin's behavior was, he didn't think it likely. So that only left the Slayer being someplace else, so a part of him wanted to find a way inside so he could search in order to make sure she wasn't there.

If he left and she was inside and in need of help…

Shit.

In less than five seconds he decided on a course of action and hoped that he could keep the potential damage small.

Clapping his hands together, he watched as the blue alchemic energy danced over them but then he kept all but his pointing finger extended before pressing it against the doorknob. What he was dong wasn't full transmutation but rather just the first two steps of it: understanding and decomposition. Fortunately for him alchemic energy had a naturally destructive effect on solid matter and, with what little understanding he possessed at the moment, it looked like he could keep the scope of the damage limited. Once the doorknob and the lock behind it was reduced to so much crumbly nothing he let the energy of alchemy fade away before opening the door.

Entering into the house, he looked about but didn't see any signs of violence but all that meant was that if an assassin did try something here they caught Buffy by surprise. Deciding to make the ground floor the first stage of his search, he went room to room peeking around corners and checking corners as he went for anything that shouldn't be the way it was. It took less than five minutes for him to finish his search with nothing to show for it.

Thus he ascended the staircase, doing his best not to make any noise while at the same time keeping his sense of hearing sharp. Once he reached the top he resumed looking for trouble or Buffy, using as much caution as he could manage and doing his utmost to keep from leaving himself exposed for attack. Little by little he surveyed the upstairs but again nothing looked to be out of place or give him the impression that a dangerous situation had occurred.

He didn't find any sign that Buffy was here or had been there anytime recently either.

 _Where'd you go Buffy?_ He turned to make his way back downstairs to leave the house.

She'd go someplace she felt safe, someplace she could think things through and decide what she wanted to do next. Too bad that, aside from her house, he didn't know anyplace else that met the requirements Buffy would desire for thinking things through. He frowned hard at this but without any bright ideas on his side the only thing left for him was to head to the library and hope that the Slayer returned there. It wasn't an ideal solution, if he'd managed to become more skilled in combat alchemy he'd choose to go after the assassins, but it was the only realistic choice to make.

As he reached out for the front door feelings he'd never had before flared up and instinct caused him to drop to one knee as quickly as he could.

This proved to be a good idea since, had his movements occurred a second later, he would've lost more than half an inch of hair off the top. Intuition told him which direction the attack had come from but, by the time he'd turned his head, a booted foot was already heading his way. It took all he had to bring his metal arm up to block but even then he only managed to take away half of its strength so he still got knocked off his feet into a brief roll. He did his best to get back to his feet but only got to one knee, facing his attacker before he saw a quick reflective surface heading towards him. Once more he brought his metal arm up to block where he figured the object was going and, unlike the last time, he had a moment to brace himself for the impact.

Even then, though, the power behind the strike was almost enough to successfully knock him on his ass again.

"Well, well. When I'd been told who my target was I thought it was an insult to my skills," a cultured English voice said with an undertone of darkness. "However it seems that you're not just an ordinary American. One of those could not block my sword that in the past has separated stone from stone and steel from steel."

"Maybe it's past its warranty," he quipped even as he fought to keep the tip of the blade from getting any closer to him.

"Unlikely. This blade was crafted to be perfect and remain unblemished for as long as I live," the Englishman said, pulling his blade, no doubt in preparation for another attack. "And I have lived for CENTURIES!"

What happened next was a flurry of thrusts and slashes that had him frantically adjusting the position of his metal arm to intercept them. Sometimes he was successful but other times the blade succeeded in drawing blood, even if they were only flesh wounds. Sparing as much of his mind as he could without making matters worse, he tried to think of a way he could escape because there was no way he'd come out on top if he tried to win this fight. It'd be death by God knew how many cuts without a doubt.

 _I need to create a distraction,_ he thought even as a near miss grazed his cheek. _A big enough one that I'll be able to get enough distance to make the sword guy back off to come up with a new plan._

Too bad the only option he had was to have holy hell sent his way when Missus S and Buffy came home.

Rolling to the right, he reached out with his flesh and blood arm to grab a flower vase off its pedestal while he kept his metal one up in guard position. He waited until he saw the beginnings of a thrust before throwing the vase at his attacker as quickly as he could, even if it meant sacrificing power. When he saw the man begin to reposition his blade he moved onto the second phase of his plan: he brought his hands together, clapping them before placing them both on the wooden floor. With crackling blue energy he transmuted the wood into spears that he sent at the swordsman from as many angles as he dared to with the time he had. He poured out enough energy to keep the reaction going before bolting into the next room and out the window, shattering the glass as he did so, his arms keeping his face safe.

As soon as solid ground was under his feet he started running for all he was worth, using whatever he came across to block his attacker's line of sight. Fences, bushes, garages and cars were all fair game as far as he was concerned. He went all out for what felt like a full fifteen minutes before he ducked behind a dumpster to catch his breath.

"What the hell was that all about?" he muttered after his breathing evened out a bit.

He thought Buffy was supposed to be the target of the Order of Taraka, not him.

True, there was the possibility that the swordsman was completely unrelated but then again this was Sunnydale, so he'd be safer assuming the guy was a Tarakan assassin.

In any case he needed to get back to the library and tell the others about this. If the Order was sending assassins after more than just Buffy then the entire Scooby gang was in danger. They'd need to figure out how to fight as a group or go into hiding until they could come up with some kind of strategy.

Still, at least there was one positive thing about all this: Buffy killed one assassin and, through luck, he'd managed to gain some info on another.

All that was left was to find out who the final assassin was and they'd be at the starting line of their counterattack.

After all, according to Giles, the Order only ever sent three after a target.

Assuming the Brit wasn't mistaken then logically, until all three were dead, another trio would not be sent to fulfill the contract.

If they timed things right they could do away with the assassins and then use the breather in between the death of the last and the arrival of the new assassins to find out who'd ordered the hit.

With a bit of luck and some 'persuasion' there was a chance the contract could be cancelled or the employer could be made unable to hold up his side of the contract.

 _Assuming the bastard didn't pay for everything up front,_ he thought, hoping that it was payment after services rendered.

It'd be just their luck if that turned out to be the case.

 _ **Sunnydale High School Library**_

 _ **Giles' POV**_

"Kendra, I-I've, uh, conferred with your Watcher, Mister Zabuto, and, uh, we both agree that, uh, until this matter with Spike and Drusilla has been resolved that you two should work together," he said as he exited his office having concluding his phone call moments earlier.

"Oh, that'll be a treat," Buffy grumbled from her chair.

He'd been dealing with this animosity ever since Buffy had entered the library with her 'sister' Slayer in tow and, while not entirely unexpected, he did hope that they would learn to get along. If what he suspected about the 'rising darkness' was true then it might well take two Slayers in order to prevent it from bubbling over and threatening the entire town. Spike was bad enough with his track record of killing two Slayers previously, as well as his determination to leave vampire dogma behind in favor of 'having fun', but if Drusilla were to be revived to full strength… madness in more ways than one. Couple one half of the Scourge of Europe with the Order of Taraka and they had quite a bit on their plate at the moment.

He only hoped that it would not turn out to be more than they could handle.

"So, you believe dat Spike is attempting to revive dis Drusilla to health?" Kendra asked, treating him like her commanding officer.

It was a stark contrast to how Buffy regarded him to be sure.

"Yes, well, I-I-I-I think that's the, uh, the dark power that your, your Watcher re-referred to," he replied, summing up his thoughts in his head. "You see, uh, you see Drusilla's not only evil, she's, uh, well, she's also quite mad, and-and-and if she's restored to her full health, then, uh, well, there's no, absolutely no telling what she might do."

"Den we will stop Spike," Kenda decided simply, indicating how her mind worked.

"Ooo, good plan, let's go, CHARGE!" Buffy declared mockingly, apparently determined to ridicule her 'little sister' at every opportunity.

"Buffy…" he said, trying to convey to her that unprecedented as the two Slayer situation might be creating needless friction would only make things worse.

"It's a little more complicated than that, John Wayne," Buffy said, this time at least pointing out a valid fact.

"Yes, I'm, I'm afraid it is. You see, Spike has also called out the Order of Taraka to keep Buffy out of the way," he explained, pointing out a very serious obstacle to putting a stop to Spike's plans.

"De assassins? I read of dem in de writings of Dramius," Kendra said, showing that she was a little more interested in the academic side of Slaying than Buffy was.

"Oh, really? W-w-which volume?" he asked, pleasantly surprised by this revelation.

"I believe it was six, sir," Kendra replied with a militaristic level of respect.

"Um, how do you know all this?" Buffy asked, sounding a little stunned at the fact that her junior knew such things.

"From me studies." Kendra replied.

"So, obviously you have a lot of free time," Buffy said, likely imagining how much time would be needed to commit demonic lore to memory.

"I study because it is required," Kendra stated, pointing out that it was less a choice and more an obligation of her Calling. "The Slayer Handbook insists on it."

"There's a Slayer Handbook?" Willow asked, speaking up for the first time with interest.

He very much doubted that there was a single book that the redhead would not be interested in reading.

"Wait. Handbook? What handbook? How come I don't have a handbook?" Buffy asked, sounding like she thought she'd been short changed.

"Is there a T-shirt, too?" Willow asked before receiving a look from Buffy. "'Cause that would be cool…"

For a moment he considered sugar coating his response but realized that it would likely only anger Buffy more given his recent perceived slight to her abilities.

Truth it was then.

"After meeting you, Buffy, I realized that, uh, the handbook would be of no use in your case," he replied to his Slayer's question, knowing that her insistence at doing things her way would keep any of the handbook's contents from being absorbed.

"Well, what do you mean it would be of no use in my case? Wha-what's wrong with my case?" Buffy asked, showing that his efforts to minimize damage had failed.

"Uh, Kendra, uh, perhaps you'd like to show me the, the part in, uh, Dramius Six where, uh, uh where it refers to the Order of Taraka?" he asked, deciding to change the subject in favor of something safer. "Really, I-I, I seem to have never been able to get through that book. It was a bit stodgy."

"It was difficult. All dose footnotes," Kendra said with a smile of amusement.

Buffy looked like she was about to say something when the door opened up to show a bleeding and rather out of breath Xander, immediately causing him to raise his guard. Unfortunately the rather violent method of the lad's entry also put Kendra on the defensive since even with his explanation that Buffy had friends the junior Slayer still believed in Council law regard allies of the Slayer.

Namely that if they weren't Council or Council approved then the Slayer should keep her distance from them and possibly discourage them from getting involved altogether. He and the few moderate members of the Council protested this, believing that the isolationist policies of the current ruling faction would only leave them vulnerable should they come under attack by a superior foe. Of course Travers and his ilk scoffed at this, certain with the resources under their control that they would be able to overcome any threat. As such when the faction came to power they passed several resolutions meant to discourage interaction with other organizations and ensure that any that did happen occurred with the Council possessing the upper hand.

Pillocks!

"Giles we gotta talk about the…" Xander said before noticing Kendra standing next to Buffy, "…thing we've been worried about."

"Oh, forgive me. Uh, Xander, this is Kendra. Uh, i-it's rather complicated, but she's also a Slayer," he explained, clearing up the misunderstanding in the hopes of speeding up cooperation.

"A Slayer, huh?" Xander said before looking at Buffy. "I knew this 'I am the only one, I am the only one' thing was just an attention-getter. I mean, it doesn't make sense that the fate of the world'd depend on just one person."

"Just say hello, Xander," Buffy said, clearly not appreciating her friend's attempt at humor.

"Hello. So you're here to help with all the paycheck murderers?" Xander asked, drawing the obvious conclusion.

"Uh… I hope… I tank you… I mean, sir, um… I will be of service," Kendra replied, being uncharacteristically clumsy with her response given how she'd spoken thus far.

"I bet you will and we need help in a big way," Xander said, a tone of urgency returning to his voice.

"What do you mean?" he asked, remembering the teenager's wounds and out of breath state from moments ago.

"I went to Buffy's place thinking that she'd gone there to think after you dumped the whole Order stuff in her lap but she wasn't there," Xander replied, an undercurrent of anxiety peeking out a bit. "I looked upstairs and downstairs. When I was about to leave I got ambushed by some sword-swinging Brit and the way he was talking, it sounded like he was one of the assassins."

"Dear lord!" he exclaimed, shocked at how close the lad had come to dying. "What did he look like? Can you provide any details?"

"Well, British, like he should be doing 'Masterpiece Theatre', a sword that he said'd stay in top condition for as long as he lived, and a big check on the superhuman strength," Xander replied, summing up his experience in his unique way. "Also said something about the sword being able to cut through stone and steel, but that mighta just been hype."

Sadly he didn't think that that would be the case since the description sparked a bit of recognition in his mind, causing him to head to the book stacks looking for a particular volume. Fortunately he knew where most of his books were, so finding the one he sought wasn't difficult and once he had it he began to flip through the pages as swiftly as he could without damaging them. A minute later he found the entry he'd been searching for and, with his memory refreshed, he marveled once more at the fact that Xander was able to get away from this person.

Returning to the main library table, he placed the open book where everyone could see it.

"Is this the person who attacked you Xander?" he asked, pointing to the detailed drawing of a man that existed before modern cameras did.

"The hairstyle is a little different but the face is dead on," Xander replied, nodding in confirmation.

"Then you must have been born under a lucky star indeed," he said with a sigh that only partially masked his concern. "Of all the people the assassin Harold Marshall has targeted over the centuries he's been in this world, only five have survived. All others he has successfully slain in the manner dictated by his clients."

"Well that's good, right?" Xander asked, looking like he understood but was somewhat denying. "I mean if five people got away then he can't be too badass right?"

"Xander… Marshall's been alive since the early sixteen hundreds. In that time he has successfully killed over three thousand people," he said, almost unable to deliver the terrible news. "Given that amount, the five people don't amount to even one percent of his victims getting away."

Eyes wide in shock, mouth hanging open and skin going distinctly pale as the color drained from it, Xander made to sit down… only to find out the hard way that there was no chair behind him, thus he fell to the floor as the gravity of the situation became apparent.

Still, at least he had one bit of good news for the lad.

"At least you can take some consolation in the fact that after this failure Marshall will likely focus his efforts on Buffy as per his contract with Spike," he said even as he began to estimate his Slayer's skill with a sword in his mind. "So long as you take steps to ensure he does not notice you or take issue with your successful escape, you should be safe enough."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Xander said almost emotionlessly since comprehending his situation was taking up the majority of his brainpower.

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, her distress over the news almost as bad as Xander's.

"Marshall said 'Well, well. When I'd been told who my target was, I thought it was an insult to my skills' and 'However it seems that you're not just an ordinary American.'." Xander replied as the truth flowed over the rest of them. "I don't think Buffy's his target Giles. I think I am."

"That's ridiculous, Xander! I'm the scourgey one here and Spike's butt pain," Buffy exclaimed, clearly incredulous at the idea of someone putting out a contract on Xander. "He was just some sicko playing mind games with you."

"Unlikely, Buffy. While Marshall has been recorded using strategy and manipulation to fulfill his contracts, his methods are always been sophisticated," Giles said as he scrambled to determine a course of action. "If he wished to play mind games with anyone, it would have been you."

"Well maybe he was. Maybe attacking Xander and saying those things is his plan for getting me to go after him and fall into a trap," Buffy said, still not willing to accept that someone had actually, officially, targeted a friend. "Well, the old man should be more careful with what he wishes for!"

"Buffy, please do not imply that you intend to fall for his machinations if that is indeed what occurred at your home," he said forcefully as his mind came up with numerous bad scenarios. "No member of Order of Taraka is accepted unless they reach a certain standard of excellence and success. For one such as Harold Marshall… he could definitely be considered overqualified."

This seemed to be enough to make his Slayer rethink taking the swordsman on in a frontal assault but he needed to come up with a plan quickly if he was to prevent her from giving into her more impulsive tendencies.

Of course then another detail poked him in the brain: the Order of Taraka always sent THREE assassins after a designated target.

If Xander was right, if he was designated as a target along with Buffy, that meant that they could potentially have five assassins in Sunnydale, with only two being directed at the latter and the rest looking to end the life of the former.

…Bugger!

 _ **Spike's Warehouse Lair**_

 _ **Spike's POV**_

"Your information on Alexander Harris was inaccurate, vampire," the assassin whose appearance screamed British upper crust said upon his return. "He is most definitely more than a simple American teenager."

"What are you on about?" he asked, unable to think of anything remarkable about the whelp. "He's the Slayer's tag alone, her groupie, and about as dangerous as a drugged poodle."

"While he may be an ally of the Slayer and a complete amateur at combat he has the potential to become decidedly dangerous given enough time," the assassin said in a tone that would tolerate no naysaying. "Not only did his right arm successfully block my blade but he used sorcery to transform the wooden flooring of the Slayer's home into almost fifteen spears before directing them at me. I am embarrassed to say that the unexpected nature of the attack allowed my target to get away. I will, of course, pursue him further but tradition dictated that I inform you of this data discrepancy and determine if I had been misled. Worry not, though, because I can tell from your expression you were unaware of the young man's abilities. A recent development, perhaps?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's a solid bet," he replied as he began to wonder at just what Dru had seen originally that had her insist on six assassins for two targets.

Everything he could remember about the whelp indicated that he was a nothing, a nobody, just a groupie following the Slayer around and good for nothing other than cannon fodder. Indeed he'd fully expected the first assassin the boy encountered to be the last but apparently that didn't happen because the whelp somehow had learned a magic trick or two. Still, nothing to worry about in his opinion since surprise was the only reason the boy was still alive.

"Then he's still new to his sorcery," the assassin said with a nod of approval. "Good. I can use that to my benefit. Nevertheless, I would recommend you pass this new information on to the other two assigned to the young man. It would be unfortunate if the reputation of the Order was stained because information was not shared once discovered. Good day."

With that the assassin walked back to the front entrance of the warehouse before stepping out into the sun, leaving him to wonder just what could have happened to the whelp to change him so drastically.

He thought the matter over and only one incident in recent memory had him thinking it was the likely culprit. Bloody Halloween. Dru had told him that day that someone had come to Sunnydale to change everything and that the Slayer would be made weak. Interested, he changed his usual habit for the holiday of staying in and laughing at some of the movies on the telly in favor of bagging another Slayer. It turned out to be the right move since he'd found Angelus, the redhead ghost and some other girl, with the Slayer who had been reduced to a quivering weakling possessing not a trace of power. It had felt like a gift bestowed upon him by Satan himself since he'd use any gift given by the other guy as a weapon to shank the bastard.

Too bad it hadn't lasted very long.

Just as he'd been about to sink his fangs into the helpless Slayer's throat the magic had ended and the bottle blonde had her mojo back.

If that night was when the whelp had gotten his upgrade then it shouldn't be too much to worry about. No one could work magic good enough to be a problem after only a couple of weeks. If there was one thing he'd learned in his long life it was that a human needed to be at least in their mid to late twenties before they could work spells good enough to be a problem. The trick Harris pulled to get away from the assassin was probably dumb luck since the boys had told him enough to know that the teenager had a decent helping of that.

So with that in mind he set any thoughts of the whelp aside and focused instead on the 'guest' Dru was currently entertaining. It'd been a spot of good luck when Willy had called, saying that the key ingredient for his love's restoration was all caged up and ready for pickup. Since then Dru had been getting 'reacquainted' with her sire and the screams coming from the room were definitely of the pleasing variety rather than infuriating. It had, after all, been a nasty bone he'd had to pick back in the day when Angelus would regularly have his way with Dru and deliberately made sure he was within earshot for the most infuriating parts. It did his unbeating heart good to hear the traitor being tortured. Still, he'd probably have to pop in every so often to make sure Dru didn't dust their important sacrifice. According to Dalton, the sire of the vampire looking to be healed was an irreplaceable ingredient and he wasn't willing to lose this chance to see his love restored.

Not unless a better option presented itself but, then again, what were the chances of that happening?

It'd been years since the incident in Prague that'd so terribly hurt his love and he had spent every moment since then looking for some way to undo the damage. At first he'd thought that all it'd take would be some choice sources of blood from particularly resilient humans or a couple of low level magi, but neither had really done anything. From there he'd begun making the rounds to the various people demons went to when they needed some magic done or needed someone fluent in dusty old books. It'd taken years and they'd had to dash more than a few times from a location when those thrice damned Executors had shown up looking to work their magic on the local 'nightlife'.

Still, that was all in the past.

He had the translation of the book, he had Angelus and all that remained was being in the right place at the right time to make Dru well again.

Then the FUN would REALLY begin.


	4. Time to kick things up a notch

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein they are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no money from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore I would appreciate it if no one sued me or anything for writing. I can promise you that no matter what you got from me you'd still have a hefty bill to pay from your lawyers.

 _ **Sunnydale High School**_

 _ **Early Afternoon**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

 _Well, another hour or so of talking to Captain Huffer,_ he thought, leaving his last class for the student lounge where the various career booths were set up. _Not a bad way to avoid classes AND keep close to Buffy._

While there was still some doubt as to whether or not he had his own trio of assassins looking to add him to their kill list, it'd been decided that they would act like it was the truth. That meant him and Buffy would stick close to one another as best they could while watching each other's back so that the moment one of the Tarakan assassin's made their move they could act to protect whoever was targeted.

In the meantime Giles would continue to research the method Spike planned on using to restore Drusilla and hopefully they'd have all the important details soon. Assuming they did, they would mount up and head to wherever the voodoo was taking place and put a stop to it however they could. If necessary he could try to do with the cross what he did to the doorknob on Buffy's front door since, in his limited experience, magic stuff often had Swiss army knife options. That meant that what Spike had was more than just a decoder ring for making sense of gibberish. He'd bet a box of Twinkies that it also played a role in the ceremony and ritual, so if it could be destroyed then that'd stop Spike instantly.

Too bad it also meant that the Billy Idol wannabe would pull out all the stops to protect it.

 _Hopefully with two Slayers around he'll be distracted enough to let me get close enough to do my thing,_ he thought as the student lounge came into view.

It was that thought, however, that reminded him of the damage he'd done to Buffy's house and, while he was pretty sure he could just brush it off on the assassin, there was a chance she'd suspect the truth. Lying to their parents about where they were was one thing but lying to each other was a little harder since there'd be a sizeable amount of guilt involved and that tended to show on the face. If she did decide that he was responsible then there was going to be one hell of a rant followed by insistence that he fix the damage he'd done. Theoretically he could try with alchemy to fix it, he'd seen enough of the repair focused alchemic arrays in the manga, but it'd probably be safer with some wood from the local building supplies store and some nails.

Not that he knew a whole lot about construction, of course.

Sure, he'd done patch jobs at home because Tony was too cheap to hire a professional, or blamed him for the damage, but any person who had an education in the field of house repair would tear his work apart. Still, if he had to do it he'd do it and hope for the best.

At the very least he could set it up to look like something normal happened to it so Joyce would never suspect that something Hellmouthy occurred in her home.

Once he got close enough, he could see that he'd arrived just in time since the various reps were waiting in front of their booths and the students were just beginning to head to whichever one they were assigned to. Captain Huffer spotted him about the same time he spotted Captain Huffer, resulting in some mutual waving as he adjusted his path to put him on course for the military booth.

"Back for more, eh?" Captain Huffer asked with a sardonic look on his face. "Well, I gotta admire your guts but not your brains. Looks like you've got more in common with me and mine than I thought."

After that opening statement things more or less went like they did the last time, with Huffer giving more information about the benefits of enlisting in the armed forces followed by personal anecdotes. It was definitely not the stale presentation he'd been expecting from a rep because, depending on how many they had to do, it must've been tough to keep up the enthusiasm or making it sound interesting.

Repetition bred boredom, after all.

Settling in for the long haul, he kept a part of his attention on the other reps and Buffy so he could spring into action the second something Hellmouthy happened. Even if with his meager knowledge and incomplete alchemy he could only distract the assassins so Buffy could take them down, that'd be enough. As much as he wanted to come into his own, to become a hero in his own right, he knew he wasn't ready for it yet. He needed more time to study, to achieve maximum understanding of what he'd be changing, before he could take to the battlefield with a decent chance of coming back.

He just hoped that the Fates would be kind enough to let him live that long.

A minute later he spotted Buffy arrive, late likely because she'd been talking to Giles, so from that moment on he kept his ears sharp and timed his glances so that they'd look random. He couldn't let the Captain think that something was up because then he'd have to create some lame excuse that would not be well thought out enough to stand up to scrutiny. If Huffer got too suspicious, it'd make things difficult if he had to maneuver to someplace else in the lounge to be of use to Buffy.

So he did his best to keep things subtle but also sharp enough that he wouldn't be too late to act when the time came.

"Alright, listen up, and answer when I call your name. Buffy Summers," the representative of the local police department said as she looked down at a list on a clipboard.

BANG!

Whirling around he saw Buffy wrestling with the police rep a gun pointed at the ceiling as the two of them fight over it. Seeing the assassin reveal herself, he stood up from his chair, intent on coming at the killer for hire from behind and adding his strength to Buffy's. However, before he could take more than a step, the same danger sense that'd saved his bacon in the Summers home flared up again. Seeing as how it'd saved him last time, he listened to it, bringing up his metal arm in the right direction instinctually, but unlike last time he used his other arm to add strength to the block while he braced himself.

Turned out that was a good thing.

With force that sent vibrations up both arms something impacted his metal arm, causing him to skid a foot or two before coming to a stop. Once getting knocked on his ass was no longer an issue he directed his gaze to the source of the blow to behold a man that looked like he belonged cage fighting. Muscles upon muscles, with more than a few scars, indicating that many had tried to kill the man but none had succeeded despite quite a few near misses. However the important part was that almost entirely up the arm the sleeves of the shirt the man was wearing looked like what lay within was a skeletal rather than something with meat on it. Logically that means that there should be no strength in the arms, since strength came from muscle, but much like everything else on the Hellmouth logic didn't count for much. While not strong enough to push him back any further, it was clear that this gladiator of a man was not normal and, considering recent events, was one of the Tarakan assassins.

A part of him remarked that it made sense: wait for one target to be attacked then when the second target moves to support attack them from behind.

Most of him, though, was completely focused on staying alive by any means necessary.

Drawing on some of the moves he'd picked up through experience via fighting off bullies and jocks, he guided the attacking fist so that it went to the right of him while he repositioned to the left. Once it was far enough away he gripped the offending arm at the wrist before bringing back his free hand to deliver a punch…

…only the gladiator to beat him to the punch quite literally.

And painfully.

His thoughts were jumbled for the most part but fortunately impacting one of the career booths had a nice way of getting things working properly again. Knowing that those who lost their footing were often the first to die, he did his best to regain his, quickly standing fully just in time to see his foe advancing, swiftly swatting aside anyone that got in his way. Considering the sickening snapping sounds he heard, he didn't like the odds of those struck ever moving unaided again.

 _Time to see if this'll work two for two,_ he thought as he clapped his hands together before reaching for the floor.

Upon contact with the floor of the lounge he did his best to use what knowledge he had and the experience the incident at the Summers home to make it work. Too bad that meant he had to wing it for the most part and feel his way through, but thus far his instincts were keeping him alive so he'd put his trust in it. Like before he tried to create four spears of concrete, spreading them just enough to cover his assassin without giving room to slip in between them. Best case scenario, they succeeded in seriously injuring the assassin, reducing the gladiator's threat level or perhaps even forcing the killer to retreat.

Worst case scenario, the man evaded the transmuted spears and continued to advance, but then it'd just become a case of playing keep away with his spears acting as an improvised wall.

Too bad Fate chose to make its own prediction a reality.

The gladiator brought both his arms up to form an X that protected his torso and, upon contact with those arms, his spears broke like they were trying to punch through armored vehicle metal. With the tips destroyed the rest of the spears either fell apart or were destroyed when the man put his durable arms to work in combination with the superhuman strength he possessed.

 _Dammit! It would be SO nice if I'd made enough progress understanding fire to use Flame Alchemy, but if I tried to use it now too many people'd get hurt,_ he thought as he moved to evade the man after his life.

Fortunately for him someone then chose to intervene.

Out of nowhere a small blade shot through the air before striking the gladiator in the back of the head, but sadly didn't penetrate deep enough to be considered fatal. Indeed it looked like it was only deep enough to remain at the back of the head instead of immediately falling to the floor. His mind quickly guessing where the blade had come from he was surprised to see Captain Huffer standing in front of his booth, another small blade about an inch or two in size ready to go.

And for some reason a ping of familiarity resonated in his mind as though he'd seen the small blade before.

"Why don't you pick on someone who can fight back, big guy?" Huffer asked, sounding like he thought victory would only require a little effort.

While he admired the man's guts, he would've looked a lot more impressive if he didn't have a blade that looked like it could double as a shark's tooth. Also, despite having been in the military long enough to rise to the rank of captain without getting a grey hair on his brown head, there was no way the guy could be prepared to fight an assassin from the Order of Teraka. The gladiator turned towards Huffer even as he reached up to grip the blade lodged in his head but, after pulling it out, then looking at it the killer, it dismissed both the weapon as well as its owner.

"HEY!" Huffer exclaimed, clearly upset at having been dismissed as a threat and as an acceptable opponent.

"Get out of here, Huffer!" he ordered, hoping that the man's military discipline would make him obey without thinking too much. "Get out and get as many people clear of here as you can! This guy's a little above your pay grade!"

"If he's above mine then he's in another galaxy for you!" Huffer said, stubbornly refusing to leave. "Besides what sort of responsible adult would I be if I abandoned you to die?"

"One that'll live long enough to get better and do better next time, you IDIOT!" he yelled back without taking his gaze off of the assassin. "Now beat it!"

"Screw that!" Huffer said, throwing the blade in his hand at the Tarakan. "This is my fight and I'm gonna fight it!"

This latest blade didn't even hit the assassin since it was caught one with hand like it was a paper airplane.

"Then let us fight it and be done," the killer said, turning fully to face Huffer and began advancing.

SHIT!

Before he even registered it he was running towards the gladiator, intent on doing something, anything, to regain the murderer's attention. Even if it meant putting himself back on Death's pick up list today, he could not accept allowing an innocent to come to harm, especially since they were not in the know. He might not share Buffy's obsession with having a 'normal life', that didn't mean he was willing to stand back and let someone else stumble into the weirdness unprepared. The uninformed were the first to die in dangerous situations and that meant that meant that someone that knew nothing about the supernatural would die at the hands of a trained supernatural assassin.

He was just reaching his top sprinting speed as the gladiator reached the last quarter mark but, right when he was about to will his metal arm back into punching position, his target froze.

No, not froze; changed direction in the blink of an eye!

TRAP!

This time, even though he moved to bring his durable prosthetic up to block, it proved to be just a little too slow; it turned an attack that would've pierced his heart into one that ripped through his right shoulder. Pain exploded where the unnatural hand struck and only stubbornness kept him on his feet, albeit with his sole flesh and blood arm limp at his side. He could still feel it so the nerves hadn't been cut but the damage done to the same shoulder would make moving it too difficult to be worth it. Even stepping quickly backwards sent vibrations through the injured part of his body aggravating it and causing him more pain. Still, he could not afford to stay in one place since the gladiator looked like he sensed his hunt was about to end and wanted to deliver the killing blow.

Taking in all that was within his field of vision, he could see Buffy still grappling with her assassin, though it looked like the blonde Slayer was gaining the advantage, if a little too slowly for his liking. She wouldn't be able to help him any time soon and his tactics thus far would not keep him alive until she was available.

Grimacing with both pain and anger, he reached into his right pocket and, with supreme difficulty, tried to get what was inside on one handed as quickly as possible. It seriously gave him a newfound bit of respect for people who'd lost an arm in an accident and didn't have enough of one left for a decent prosthetic, forcing them to do everything one handed. Still, what lay within his pocket was still his only remaining option despite how unstable it'd be, so he kept trying to make it in time.

"You put up a good fight, boy, but now it's time for your bones to rest," the gladiator assassin said with a voice like gravel. "Don't worry. I'll make it quick."

Seeing the Tarakan assassin dart forward caused his fear to spike but, just as the paid murderer got to within arm's reach, he succeeded in what he'd been trying to do with his right hand. Yanking his hand out of his pocket, he brought it up but this time it wasn't to block.

No, this time he intended to do something decidedly more dangerous.

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you," he said, pressing his thumb and his middle finger together.

Then, with little if any pressure, the two digits scraped against one another, generating a snap and then a spark of orange light before finally producing his reckless intent.

Fire.

 _ **Buffy's POV**_

 _I have to get to Xander!_ she thought for the tenth time even as she kneed the fake cop in the stomach. _He's not going to hold out much longer!_

True, she'd been saying the same thing for several minutes but it didn't change the way she felt, so with each time she thought those words she released one of the limiters she'd placed on herself. For her, harming humans was something to be done with kid gloves or not at all, but as the woman who was almost certainly a Teriakai assassin had proven, the bitch was definitely not human, or at least not very. It probably meant that the woman had traded some of her humanity for power and, given that she was almost going all out, probably quite a bit. In her mind that meant the woman was close enough to being a demon for her to increase her strength to bone breaking levels in order to win.

Too bad that whatever enhancements the woman had received also included increased durability.

Still, if the expression on the assassin's face was any hint, she was gaining ground so she just had to keep pushing.

FWOOSH!

Heat, light and explosive force.

All three things came out of nowhere and, because she hadn't felt them coming, she got knocked to the floor but not burned. Whirling around to see what'd happened she was shocked to see a man… no, definitely a demon of some kind, judging by those arms… covered in patches of flames. The demon definitely looked like it'd been shaken by whatever had set it ablaze but still hadn't been hurt bad enough to die or even lose consciousness. When she looked for Xander, though, she was horrified to find him on the ground with a terrible wound in his shoulder and, unless she was mistaken, his clothes looked to be slightly charred. He was still awake and all, trying to get to his feet, but she could tell that if he tried to lock horns with the assassin again, he'd… he'd die.

She moved to take on the burning assassin, hoping that she'd at least be able to increase his injuries enough to force a retreat before her own opponent regained her senses.

BANG!

 _Dammit!_ she thought as she was thrown off stride by something painfully striking her in the shoulder.

Recovering, she looked at her shoulder to see blood quickly soaking into her shirt, with fabric damage showing where she'd been initially hit. Looking back at her sparring partner, she saw the smoking gun, quickly connecting the dots to explain what'd just happened.

She'd been shot!

But at this range and with her being distracted by Xander's plight, she should've been easy to pick off with a shot to the head. It was only as she thought of this that she noticed a jagged piece of metal that made her think of something a demon might use as a toothpick sticking up out of her foe's wrist. Had this thing thrown the assassin's aim? Whatever the case the damage was apparently enough to make holding a gun hard, never mind firing it, and the assassin knew this. With only a final glance in her direction the fake policewoman got to her feet and sprinted for the nearest exit, shoving any lingering students out of her way before slamming into the doors and vanishing from sight.

 _Not the end I'd like but I'll take it,_ she thought, ignoring the pain of her wound given that there was a threat still present. _But I'm still slaying at least one of them!_

Just as the demon looked to have recovered enough to make another go at Xander, she reached out with her one good arm before clamping down hard on its upper arm, throwing it with all her strength at the nearest wall. Doing her Slayer heritage proud the power she put into it was good enough to actually leave impact cracks where the demon hit. This looked to aggravate the burns Xander had caused and, judging by the look on the monster's face, it was debating whether or not it could still kill its target.

"Buffy! Down!" Xander yelled urgently enough for her to act without thinking.

FWOOSH!

Another burst of heat, light and force but this time she could see it all.

With only the barest traces of a line coming from Xander's direction, some kind of energy struck the demon's general location before fire exploded out of nowhere to engulf the demon from head to toe. It wasn't completely controlled, though, as anything within two feet of the monster also got hit, reducing all to flaming debris, but at least no students had gotten hurt.

Oh, and she was fine, too, but the demon… definitely not.

Whereas before the fire attack merely did surface damage and offered lingering flames, this attack had scorched right to the bone, leaving no patch of organic flesh in decent condition. Even then, though, the demon did not fall dead to the ground right away but rather seemed to be giving a suicide run some serious thought. In the end flesh proved weaker than spirit and, after a single step, the demon's body fell to the ground, unmoving, before the corpse began to crumble to the pieces like a black sand sculpture.

"Looks like I win," Xander said even though his voice was laced with pain. "Feels good. Painful but good."

She snorted at this but winced since the action caused the pain in her shoulder to flare up.

They both needed medical attention sooner rather than later.

"Hey Army guy? Think you could call the hospital and have'em send some people this way?" she asked, sitting down on a nearby chair that miraculously had stayed upright throughout the fight.

"Right! You two rest and try to find something to put pressure on your wounds," Army guy said, turning to head for the nearest payphone. "Don't you dare bleed out!"

With that the adult left and so, after finding a blanket to use to put pressure on her wound, she waited for the ambulance. While her wound would be all healed within a day there was still the issue of getting the bullet out and she'd prefer to have that done by a professional rather than Giles. Her Watcher wasn't completely unskilled in patching her up but too many people had seen at least some of the fighting and one would definitely have seen her get shot.

It'd raise too many questions for her not to go to the hospital for treatment.

Besides, she wanted to stay close to Xander in case the assassins tried to make another move while he recovered from his injury.

Her being the Slayer meant that she'd recover within twenty-four hours, if not sooner, but Xander was just an ordinary human so it'd probably be weeks before he got back to normal. That meant she'd not only have to protect herself but also him from any more assassin attacks. Considering what she'd fought so far, she was beginning to lean more and more in favor of Giles' original plan of finding someplace to hide out until they could come up with a half decent plan. If there were only three assassins then she could be more confident, since she'd killed one and would've done the same to the other if the woman hadn't run off to save her own skin. It'd mean that she'd only have to worry about one fresh assassin, and one she knew she could handle, especially since she'd seen the woman's face.

However now she was convinced that whoever had hired the Teriaki assassins had definitely put their crosshairs on her best guy friend's back.

That meant that they had at least four assassins to worry about, including the one that'd run off just now.

Even with Kendra there, even though she didn't like the junior Slayer, the two of them were going to have their work cut out for them just to clear the way to Spike.

That would take time and, depending on when Spike planned on using the cross to heal Drusilla, they may not progress fast enough to thwart the vampire's plans. If Drusilla was just as bad, if not worse, than Spike, then keeping the people of Sunnydale safe was going to be much harder and require more of her free time to do.

With little if any free time, would there be any point to clinging to the life of a normal teenage girl? Would she not be surrendering to the Calling that had unfairly been placed on her shoulders?

NO!

The future was dictated by free will, by individual choice, and she chose to live her life as close to that of a normal teenage girl as possible.

It was the life she would have had, SHOULD have had, instead of a short future filled with demons and violence.

So even if she didn't have any bright ideas about how to beat the seemingly inevitable fate of a Slayer, she would give her all to have all a teenage California girl was entitled to in the time she had left.

At least then she could die with as few regrets as possible.

 _ **Sunnydale General Hospital**_

 _ **That Evening**_

 _ **Xander's POV**_

"How are you doing, my boy?" Giles asked as the assembled Scoobies stood at his bed.

"Surprisingly good, considering I had my shoulder torn up and singed myself," he replied from his comfortable hospital bed. "Considering flame alchemy can blow up houses if used right, I guess I'm lucky I didn't wind up doing more damage."

"I have a theory regarding that," Giles said, sounding like he hadn't pinned down all the details just yet. "I believe you may have retained more than your ability to perform alchemy from Halloween."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked from her position to his left.

"The spell that was cast on Halloween was meant to imbue the wearers of a costume with copies of powers and memories belonging to whoever or whatever they were pretending to be," Giles replied, falling into his lecture tone of voice. "With most people, whatever they gained from the spell faded away into nothingness within a few days. However it is clear that in your case you retained more either due to Janus' involvement or because of the meddling of outside sources. As a result I have been pondering if there were any lingering mental traces to accompany the physical ones. Given your use of flame alchemy, it does appear likely that some information from your costume self might still remain in your mind, if only on a subconscious level."

Well, that made a sort of sense.

Sure, he was unconscious within seconds of the Halloween spell hitting him but the fact that he was able to use a fictional form of Alchemy did indicate that some more of the alterations had chosen to stick around. If there were subconscious facts in his brain, then it would also explain the 'instincts' that had been keeping him alive since the first assassin came after him. It would also explain why he didn't do more damage using flame alchemy for the first time even though he hadn't gained nearly enough knowledge about it for it to have been safe.

It also made it clear what needed to be done.

"Is there any magic or other mojo that can bring subconscious info to the surface?" he asked, his tone completely serious.

"Why do you ask?" Giles asked, not sounding too surprised at the question.

It was a sign that the Watcher was wiser and more perceptive than many of the other adults in Sunnydale.

"Let's be honest: things are going to get worse before they get any better around here. We've got four assassins, Spike and however many minions to fight against. Even with Buffy and Kendra fighting side by side, they're still gonna be outnumbered. We need more fighters on our side and the only way that's going to happen is if you use a spell to pull any memories that're still in my head to the surface."

"While I can understand the concept of your plan, Xander, magic that affects the mind in any way carries with it an inordinate amount of risk," Giles said, sounding quite troubled at the idea. "The risk only goes up when the person executing the magic has little experience with it."

"Then just set the stage and ask some god or goddess of memory to do most of the work," he said, figuring no mortal would be better at the task than a deity. "They should be okay with that if it means picking up some info they didn't have before, right?"

"I will admit that, according to my books, various deities are more amiable to requests if you provide something they have no experience with. They are, after all, immortal for the most part and therefore as centuries go by they find it increasingly difficult to find something new to try," Giles said, taking his glasses off to clean them. "However the various deities, both good and bad, do not think as we humans do. They do not come to the same conclusions as mortal minds. It is uncertain what their reaction would be to such a request."

"It couldn't hurt to ask, right?" he asked, not seeing the problem.

"On the contrary. Depending on how they choose to view your request, they may take offense and punish you in a manner they deem fit." Giles replied, impressing upon the young man the risks.

"Seeing as how I've got at least two assassins after me and Buffy has two, I'm willing to roll the dice to see how things go with beings that don't have a reason to want me dead," he said, not diverting from his proposed course of action. "Better to get sent to bed without supper by gods than be sent to meet one by one of the assassins."

"Do not be so certain. There are, after all, fates worse than death and one need only look to the example of Medusa or Arachne to see how skilled the gods are at punishing mortals," Giles pointed out, not willing to let the matter be taken so lightly.

"Giles… ever since Darla took Jesse from me and Willow, I've made it my mission to fight vampires, demons and dark magic users. That kind of lifestyle pretty much guarantees scars, injuries and probably dying young," he explained, hoping his point would get across to the Watcher. "If the next scar I get happens on my terms and helps us kick some bad guy butt, I'm okay with it."

"You shouldn't be okay with it!" Buffy exclaimed in anger with mild exasperation. "Scars? Injuries?! DYING YOUNG? These should be reasons for you to get the hell out of the lifestyle and putting as much distance between you and it as possible!"

"Running away from the truth doesn't make it go away," he said, shaking his head. "Pretending it doesn't exist doesn't make you safe. The only way to survive the truth is to learn more about it and arm yourself to face it if it threatens you."

"But you don't have to fight! You haven't been Chosen!" Buffy said incredulously before sadness dragged down her expression. "Why… why would you throw away living a good life for one filled with death?"

"You might have been CHOSEN, Buffy, but as a human being I CHOOSE to take up the fight. You always complain about not being given a choice when you were made the Slayer, so why are you insisting on taking away my choice?" he asked, staring her right in the eyes, showing his resolve.

"Because it's crazy! No sane person would want to be hurt, to suffer and die when they could live a full life," Buffy replied, showing a bit of anger. "But you don't seem to get that, so of course if you can't make the right choice someone else has to."

"So because you think you know better you'll make my choices for me? Don't be so fuckin' arrogant!" he declared angrily, ignoring the pain his feelings were producing. "You're not the center of the universe, Buffy, and you're not always right. The fact that you walked right into the Master's hands last year is proof of that. Start making the right decisions for yourself before you decide to start meddling in other peoples' lives."

Amidst the shocked looks on the faces of the others, Buffy's face just turned an interesting shade of red before she stormed out of the room, likely to find some place to vent her fury over his 'inability to see reason'. As soon as the sound of the door fully shutting echoed in the room, though, the others recovered and he knew who'd speak out first.

"XANDER! I know you're determined to help but you didn't have to be so mean to Buffy," Willow said, sounding quite cross with him. "She just wants you to be safe. We BOTH do!"

"I know that, Willow, but the kind of safety you two'd want is the safety of a cage. You'd want me to be in an environment you could control completely. That's not living. That's being kept. Like a pet," he said, deciding that even though it hurt he needed to lay everything out. "I'm a human being, not a pet. I want to live a life I can be proud of and leave with few if any regrets. If I lived a 'safe' life away from the fight after what happened to Jesse, knowing that it was happening to others that I could've saved, then I'd get buried pretty quick with regrets. I am prepared to give my life if the cause is just. Can you say the same?"

It was a question neither of them had spoken a lot about because, as teenagers, they were supposed to have their entire lives ahead of them and most of their classmates probably never considered the possibility that they could die out of the blue. He and Willow had been so caught up with the idea of being sidekicks to a real life hero that they let themselves be deluded into thinking that their future would be like it was in the movies, TV and books. In those mediums the sidekicks might get hurt but more often than not they went on to become heroes in their own right once they were strong enough to leave the nest. Like most people their age, the two of them had done their best to ignore the potential for death, even when forced to take precautions against it.

Death was scary, after all.

However after their numerous brushes with death, after he almost lost Buffy to the Master, he didn't have a hard time waking up to reality. He soon accepted that long life was not guaranteed to anyone, that death could come at any time, and that the only choice you really had was what to do with the time you had. You could live a long life playing things safe, staying well clear of danger, while focusing only on the things that pleased you. However, while fluffy and warm, they were also rather mediocre or average.

That didn't appeal to him.

That sort of life was the sort Tony and his mother had chosen and it disgusted him to the core of his being.

However dedicating his life to fighting evil and protecting those who could not protect themselves, even if it eventually led to his death sooner or later… that was not a bad life.

Turning his gaze back to Giles, he decided to press his chosen course of action.

"Can you or can't you do it, Giles?" His tone left no room for fidgeting. "Find a spell, ceremony or ritual to bring whatever bits of Edward Mustang's alchemy knowledge are still in my head up to the surface. We manage that and I should be able to handle the assassins after me, leaving Buffy to fight her own battles, and then Kendra can go for Spike. It's not like we've got any better ideas."

"Not YET, but with more time we could!" Willow declared, clearly opposing any magic that could harm him. "We just need to get back to the library and think of it."

"When has the Hellmouth ever given us all the time we need to win?" he asked rhetorically, refusing to be drawn in to Willow's preferred depiction of the world. "We don't live in a fair world, Willow. We never have. Pretending it is fair will only get you hurt."

It hurt him to see the pain on Willow's face as he tore through her delusions but he couldn't have her slowing things down when time was so crucial. Turning back to Giles, he had only one thing to say.

"Will you do it or will I have to find someone else?"

"I…I uh…I will need time to prepare and study the best option," Giles replied, sounding tentatively like he was willing to do it.

"Then you should probably get to the library and start combing through the dusty books," he said, leaving no room for the dragging of feet. "'Cause time isn't something we probably have a lot of."

"Right," Giles said with a nod before leaving the room to get started.

This left only him and Willow in the room, with the latter looking like she couldn't understand why he was acting so differently from his usual self, with that usual self being someone who rarely got serious and wouldn't say anything hurtful to his friends while also being a source of humor. The reason for the change was pretty simple: two close brushes with death in less than a day. There was no way he could go through all that and not be forced to take the current situation very seriously. As for the whole mind mojo bit, it was the most expedient way to bring his combat alchemy up to a level where he could help fight the assassins. If he went the safer way he would never become good enough to fight off the assassins in time to ensure that all those who should would survive.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Willow said in a quiet voice bubbling with concern.

 _That makes two of us._

After all, what were the odds that the ritual or spell would be able to specifically pull out only the facts of alchemy while leaving everything else buried in his subconscious?

 _ **Sunnydale High School Library**_

 _ **Late Evening**_

 _ **Giles' POV**_

 _It is times like these that I curse the world for making the young grow up so fast,_ he thought as he continued to search his volumes for something that would satisfy BOTH his criteria and Xander's request.

As much as the part of him that suppressed his 'Ripper' side every moment of every day wanted to outright refuse the young man's request, he'd seen eyes similar to Xander's before. They were the eyes of someone who meant every word they said and that meant that if he didn't help with the drawing out of the subconscious information, the young man would seek out someone in Sunnydale who would. Sadly most of the practitioners who lived on the Hellmouth were decidedly malicious in terms of personality and would demand a heavy price for their assistance. In all likelihood, though, they would perceive the threat Xander could become if the teenager gained what he sought and would feign assistance in order to gain the opportunity to slay the high school student.

No, better for him to handle the matter to ensure the best possible outcome.

That being said, he wasn't very familiar with magic that focused on the mind and approaching deities to handle the fine details could prove problematic. As he had told Xander, the gods were easily bored due to their immortality and would often treat mortals as toys to amuse themselves with by obeying the letter of any request made of them while betraying the spirit. Still, given that the changes to Xander had been performed by at least one Roman god and perhaps a member of a phantasmal species, it was likely that he would need something more than his own skills to ensure success.

 _Mnemosyne of the Greek pantheon would be essential and given the sort of knowledge Xander is after. Athena would be helpful as well,_ he thought as he continued to search for the books he'd require. _Unfortunately I doubt I will be able to achieve much without Janus' involvement. I can only pray that the two Greek goddesses will be able to keep their distant relation in check._

It took him a few moments more to find the right volumes but, once in hand, he walked to the main table in the library before sitting them down. Unfortunately that was the easy part since now he would have to evaluate each potential ritual to determine which one was the safest to use on Xander. He specifically chosen to look for rituals that would allow him to choose the deities he wished to involve rather than be locked to a specific one so he could select those with favorable relations with humans. They were less common than the ones that required the aid of a specific deity, mostly because it hinted at a lack of devotion that gods often insisted upon, but it was the best move that could be made in his opinion.

Those same gods that insisted on devotion often took it for granted and did not work to prove themselves worthy of it.

He almost didn't hear the door to the library opening and, when he looked up, he was pleasantly surprised to see Jenny enter, looking a little tired but as beautiful as ever.

"Working late on something, English?" she asked, striding up to the table.

"Indeed. Xander has proposed a rather… risky venture to counter the latest threat," he replied, feeling safe in giving her a measured answer. "Unfortunately it involves magic I have little experience in, so I must 'cram study' and attempt to meet his expectations."

"What is it he wants?" she asked, looking mildly concerned at the words being used.

"To seek out whatever lingering memory imprints might remain from the Halloween possession that might exist in his subconscious and bring them into his conscious mind," he explained, figuring there was little point to trying to disguise the goal.

"But didn't you say the change was traumatic for him and that he was unconscious until the next morning?" she asked, pointing out possible reasons why there wouldn't be memory imprints.

"Recent activities have led me to believe that, despite those factors, information on how to use his brand of alchemy still reside in his subconscious," he replied, turning away from the book he was reading.

"W-was he the one that trashed the student lounge?" she asked, as though a possibility she had dismissed earlier had suddenly become more feasible.

"Yes. It was haphazard and done out of desperation but he did manage to use his alchemy somewhat effectively," he replied with a nod. "It was his barely controlled usage of flame alchemy that cemented my belief that the information resides in his subconscious."

"That's pretty impressive. It makes me wonder what this kind of alchemy could do if he knew more," she said in a way that made him believe that she'd gotten a good look at the student lounge.

"Possibly a great deal and that is one of my concerns," he said, remembering some of the thoughts he'd had since learning of the foundation of the boy's prosthetic limbs. "At present alchemy is akin to conventional chemistry or metallurgy, often requiring that most of the work be done in a lab. If word were to spread that a new form of Alchemy existed that could be used more effectively in battle, Xander would become a target of more than just the Order of Taraka."

"Then why help him? Why add fuel to the fire?" she asked, sounding like she believed that withholding assistance might solve the problem.

"Because the bloody fool would only go behind my back to get what he wanted. Reckless and stubborn as he is, he would likely get himself killed," he replied with resigned exasperation. "At least by aiding him I can minimize the risks. Besides… what he gained Halloween night will make him a target just by existing."

He could tell from her expression that she didn't quite understand what he meant but it was better that she didn't. The fewer people that knew that the fabled sword Caliburn existed as part of Xander's prosthetic limbs, the more likely it would remain a secret from those who should not. Genuine holy swords were scarce and none, save the legendary Excalibur, surpassed Caliburn, so he could only imagine how Travers and his confederates would salivate at the idea of gaining possession of it. Whether they would make a token gesture of trying to win Xander to their side or not was irrelevant. They would not see the boy but the weapon that'd been added to their arsenal and, if that weapon proved uncooperative, they would not hesitate to make changes so that it would.

He would die or, worse, let Ripper take control before he would allow that to happen.

"I guess you're right. Being young means being stupid and it's the job of every adult to keep the young from getting themselves killed by their stupidity," she said as she walked over to the table before picking up one of the books. "Let me help. We'll get it done quicker and a different point of view'll make sure nothing's left to chance."

"Too right!" he said, motivated by this show of support to look at things more positively. "Let us get to work then."

He barely noticed the passage of time after that, so focused on his task he was and the delightful company helped greatly. It was only after he realized that he had read the same passage four times over that he conceded that fatigue was becoming an impediment that could not be overcome with more coffee. Between himself and Jenny they had managed to make considerable progress in mapping out the specifics of the ritual that would be used in order to bring the Alchemist imprints into Xander's conscious mind. All that was left was to gather the necessary ingredients necessary to contact the necessary deities and guide the various arcane energies to do what needed to be done. Fortunately Sunnydale had a magic shop or two, even though only one of them was run by someone who knew the truth while the other only played on the gullibility of the uninformed.

If they were fortunate, everything that they needed would be available, leaving only the matter of purchasing them and preparing them.

He truly hoped that the Fates would be kind to them at least where this was concerned.

They could use some kindness.

 _ **A Clearing Just Outside the Hellmouth's Range of Influence**_

 _ **Willow's POV**_

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" she asked as she watched Giles and Miss Calendar prepare for the ritual. "I mean, Xander just got out of the hospital today."

"True, but the fact that the doctor declared that he was fit enough TO be discharged would imply that he is out of immediate danger," Giles said without any hitch in his movements. "Besides, Miss Calendar and I have researched this ritual. There is very little if any physical strain to be concerned with."

"What about mental stress? Getting memories from another person can't be fun," she said, not wanting to give up on her protesting of this plan just yet.

"While I can speak from personal experience that it is indeed uncomfortable, the ritual is designed to induce paralysis to a degree while the memories are located and moved to the conscious mind," Giles said, carefully placing a small pot filled with coal on the ground. "While it may be disorienting, I do not expect it to be any worse than a mild nightmare."

"He's going to have a nightmare!?" she exclaimed, her imagination coming up with several terrible scenarios.

"Easy, Willow. A nightmare or two never hurt anyone. Besides, I want this," Xander said from his place in the center of the circle the ritual would take place in. "We need firepower but we don't have the time to take the safer route of learning through studying. Besides, I trust Giles. If he says this'll be safe then that's good enough for me. How about you?"

"I guess… I guess it's okay," she replied even though internally she cursed herself for not being able to come up with a leg to stand on.

Ever since it'd been officially been announced that they'd be performing the ritual she'd done what she could to derail it by pointing out potential risks and problems. However either they'd been shot down with reason or with Xander's stubbornness, so as a group they'd followed Giles to the clearing they were in with the reason being to avoid any malign interference from the Hellmouth. Kendra had pointed out that the location was hardly defensible but Giles had remedied that by having both Slayers leave to place ward stones about the perimeter as well as patrol the immediate vicinity. According to the Watcher, the ward stones would erect an invisible dome around the clearing that wouldn't interfere with the ritual but would alert them to anything on the outside entering the interior. Once that happened whichever Slayer was closest would move to intercept while the other would remain where she was in case the first intruder was a decoy. This strategy proved to be enough to satisfy the younger Slayer and so she and Buffy went about their task, with the latter looking quite focused on keeping Xander safe.

Now all she could do was observe and provide what little aid she could with the ritual.

She hated feeling so useless!

"Well, I think that just about does it," Giles said, standing at the edge of the ritual circle, cleaning his glasses. "Now all that is left is to empower the circle, establish contact with Mnemosyne and Athena and conveying the desired result. After that it will be up to the goddesses to see things through."

That was another thing she didn't like.

While not the fan of mythology the way Xander was, she'd learned enough to know that gods couldn't always be trusted. Sometimes they'd twist the meaning of the request while other times they'd add a hidden bit of fine print in order to make things more 'interesting'. With the outcome so uncertain, they shouldn't be going anywhere even close to this ritual until they'd improved the odds significantly.

But she was being ignored.

Ignored or people were not giving the situation the weight it deserved.

"Then let's get this show on the road," Xander said, laying back flat on the grass in the center of the ritual circle. "Time's a wasting."

Giles nodded to Miss Calendar before taking his place at the North end of the circle while the computer teacher took the South position. From there they each began speaking ancient Greek in turn, almost making it seem like they were having a conversation except the tone didn't match. With every exchange though a different part of the ritual circle lit up with a blue light as bright as any street sign until they all shone with a brilliant light. However it was only when she noticed a trail of light specks descending towards Xander's head that she realized matters were about to change.

The second the first speck hit Xander's head his entire body lurched up and she almost gave into the urge to run into the circle and pull him out. A look of utter dominance from Giles, though, made her stop in her tracks and had her wondering whether she truly knew the British man. In the end the pause was enough to buy the ritual time enough to let Xander fall into a more relaxed state, thus allowing her to do the same.

"There. The connection has been made and the process has begun," Giles said, stepping away from the ritual circle. "Given the lack of suffering on Xander's part, it appears that both goddesses have chosen not to be 'creative' with their interpretation of the request."

"Then the biggest hurdle's been overcome," Miss Calendar said, finding a soft patch of grass to sit on. "Now all we have to do is wait."

"Wait?" she asked with a little confusion. "Shouldn't this happen quickly? We're a little short on free time, right?"

"The duration of the ritual is determined by the amount of information the goddesses find in Xander's subconscious mind. Given his unconscious state and the duration of the Halloween spell, I am not expecting too much but then I could be wrong," Giles replied, directing his gaze at her. "Whatever the case, it is vital that nothing disturb the ritual until it has been completed. Severing his contact with the goddesses abruptly could send his mind into a nosedive."

Hearing that, she was doubly glad that Buffy and Kendra were patrolling the immediate area, as well as the fact that ward stones would alert them to intruders. Of course her brain then considered the possibility of what might happen if assassins from the Order made it past the stones and chose to approach from an angle that neither Slayer could get to in time.

Would they be able to survive until their best chances of winning arrived to save the day? She didn't know but she definitely didn't like their odds one bit.

"Don't worry, Willow," Miss Calendar said reassuringly. "We might not be Merlin and Glinda but we know a few moves. Enough to keep the assassins busy until Buffy or Kendra can get here."

"Indeed, so please relax," Giles said with a small, optimistic grin. "As I said this should not take too long and then we can return to the relative safety of the library."

While a part of her knew that they were just trying to dispel the fear within her, she held onto the belief that they really could hold off the killers for a short while.

After all, it was better than the alternative.

 _ **Two Hours Later**_

 _ **Buffy's POV**_

"What's taking so long?" she asked as she continued to look about the area for any sign of trouble.

It'd been a little over an hour since she'd left to patrol with Kendra and still no one had come to let them know that it was all over with and that they'd accomplished what they'd set out to do. Had something gone wrong? Should she go and investigate?

No.

As much as she was against the idea of Xander delving deeper into the darkness and abandoning any hope of a normal life, her role as perimeter guard was just too vital. If she retreated to where the ritual was taking place, the assassins would be able to close to attack range before she could move to intercept them, increasing the odds of someone she cared about getting hurt. Not that there wasn't a chance of that happening anyway with Kendra guarding the opposite direction. Even with all the abilities of the Slayer, she could tell that the Jamaican girl had been taught a relatively stale and unimaginative method of fighting. It was far too direct and, while it might work in the short term, she would've defeated her 'little sister' eventually had their fight at Angel's place continued. If Kendra were to face one of the assassins, she imagined that her flaws would likely be her downfall and, once she fell, the enemy would have a straight line to Giles and the others.

 _I'll just have to be careful,_ she thought, continuing to examine every tree and bush. _The second I hear the sounds of a fight, I'll go running, plans be damned!_

She knew what her orders were: to stay where she was if an intruder came from some direction other than hers, but the simple fact of the matter was that she could not simply leave the safety of the people she cared about to anyone else. It had to be her that stood between them and danger. She was the one all the monsters were after and it was mostly because of her that Willow and Xander hadn't repressed everything they'd seen like the rest of Sunnydale's citizens. Some people might think it would be less safe to be ignorant of the nightlife, but she didn't think so. After all both Willow and Xander had managed to make it to their second year of high school without encountering even one vampire or demon, so what was to say they couldn't have kept right on trucking without seeing one either?

Bottom line, it was her responsibility to keep them safe since she was the one who'd brought them to the attention of the darkness.

She was just about to turn from a concentration of trees and bushes she'd been keeping an eye on when her eyes spotted movement that struck her as unnatural. Bringing up her dagger, she began to slowly advance towards it, ready to thrust it into someplace vital the second her mind identified it as a threat. Inch by inch she approached but, when she spotted movement of the non-veggie variety, something unexpected happened.

Her right upper arm was torn open, causing her pain and blood to flow.

Immediately she moved to back away from the perceived direction the attack had come from as her mind fought to understand what'd just happened. She definitely hadn't seen anything on her approach that was capable of cutting her arm but she was sure that the attack had come from the vegetation clump. Was it another situation like Marcie? If it was, whoever or whatever had attacked her was definitely better at killing than the high school girl and could make their weapons invisible. That'd make it hard to fight since she'd never quite managed to grasp the whole 'sense the evil' part of being the Slayer, despite Giles' best efforts to help her sharpen the skill. Still, she would need to do something if she wanted to avoid getting picked apart one piece at a time by her attacker. Sharpening her gaze, looking for even the slightest hint of a threat, she waited for it to move again, knowing that spotting tr-

There!

Dodging to the side she then pushed off the ground, lunging forward, thrusting her dagger in hopes of drawing blood. In her mind if she could get it to do that then she'd just need to look for where the blood hit the grass and she'd be able to keep a basic idea of where the attacker was. When all she got was a rustling of grass and a gasp of breath, she had to conclude that while her strike had come close it had still missed its mark. Following her instincts to move away from the where she thought her opponent had dodged to, all she could was to try and spot even the slightest inconsistency in the environment.

"Aahhh!" she cried out as she received a cut to the shoulder, albeit not as deep as the one to her arm.

This time instead of retreating she immediately went on the offensive, using every fact about her latest wound to figure out where to strike and the moment she heard signs of movement she lashed out.

"ARGH!" came the inhuman bellow of pain. "Lousy bitch!"

Air flickered for a moment, revealing a being roughly a foot and a half taller than her but more reptilian than human. However the distortion only lasted a couple of seconds before it vanished once more. Nevertheless she felt satisfaction since, unless this demon possessed some crazy healing ability, the wound she'd dealt it would make moving hard. Indeed, if her suspicions were right, the moment it chose to exert itself it would aggravate the wound and the pain would cause it to lose focus, causing its invisibility to weaken enough for her to see it.

She just had to wait for that moment and time her strike so that it could not be evaded.

 _I might be hurt but I'm used to working through the pain,_ she thought before seeing a slight flicker of substance to her left. _There aren't any time outs in a fight. No rounds to get rest in between. Just a winner or a loser._

Lashing out to where she figured the main body was, her blade only caught a little bit of flesh, this time causing only a trickle of blood to spill. Instinct flared, demanding that she dive into a side roll and as she obeyed it something tore the loose part of her shirt to ribbons. Had the demon tried to use her own tactic against her or was it just doing what it'd been taught to do? Whatever the case it became clear that she'd need to shift into evasion immediately after striking, without waiting to see if she'd hit anything. If it was planning to kill her through counterattacking, she couldn't give it any more opportunities than she had to.

Not if she wanted to win.

Not if she wanted to survive.

Thus began the game of cat and mouse between the two of them, with near misses and minor wounds happening to both of them repeatedly. Before long though she was able to get a feel for the way her opponent fought to the point where she could make some pretty good guesses at which direction the next blow would come from. So it was with this in mind that she waited for the pattern of attacks from her invisible foe to reach a certain point and then putting her spur of the moment plan into action. Believing the next attack would come from above and to the right, instead of moving away from it she moved towards it, intending on getting under the arm in order to sink her dagger into the body as deeply as possible.

However just as she started her dive her Slayer instincts flared, causing her to rather clumsily try to pivot on the foot she'd used to push off the ground. Because of this unplanned act her balance suffered and, while she did manage to evade the enemy's attack for the most part, it still managed to open a light cut on her cheek.

THIS pissed her off!

Her other wounds were serious enough but she could hide them beneath her clothes so her mother wouldn't worry about her or ground her for 'getting into a fight'. However any damage to the face would be a lot harder to hide and, even with her Slayer healing, it wasn't like the damage would be all healed up by morning. At best it'd look like it'd been healing for a week but her mother's eyes would still home in on it within seconds of seeing her. Now she'd have to do all she could to come up with a believable excuse that wouldn't get her in trouble.

For all this trouble the invisible demon had just dropped in her lap, she was going to kick his ass!

With a head full of anger her sense of caution lessoned and her recklessness increased. Pulling her knowledge of the demon's fighting pattern into her mind with razor sharp clarity she aggressively sought to draw the blood of her prey. Exercising split second moments of reflex when the first tips of pain appeared on her body she began cleaving more and more flesh from the demon. Eventually it got to the point where the pain the demon was feeling made it impossible to maintain its invisibility, causing it to come into full view, allowing her to see it clearly for the first time. The dominant physical traits were definitely reptile in nature but there were also attributes commonly found in humans, making for an odd mix. With a loincloth around the waist and a collection of bones turned into a necklace draped across its chest, she was reminded of the movies featuring lizard men. She could now see the three fingers and thumb on each hand tipped with claws that looked like they were made for tearing something to shreds.

However they wouldn't because now that she could clearly see her foe defeating it would all too easy.

"Nice of you to put in an appearance," she said with a feral smile. "Now let me help you with your dramatic exit!"

She charged her foe, executing slash after slash, never letting it breathe even for a moment, and following it no matter which direction it tried to flee in. Before too long it made the misstep she'd been waiting for, allowing her to plunge her dagger deep into its chest, definitely doing damage to internal organs. However just to be sure she used her Slayer strength to forcefully pull the dagger across the thing's chest until there was a deep crevice of parted flesh going from one side to another.

"Rot in pieces, asshole," she said coldly before deciding to move to the ritual site to see how things were going.

Sheathing her dagger, she began to stride towards where Giles was, paying moderate attention to her surroundings in case lizard man had friends. She managed a dozen or two steps before a wave of dizziness forced her to come to a stop to steady herself, but once she sharpened her focus a little more it went away.

 _Guess I've lost a bit more blood than I thought,_ she thought as she resumed walking towards the ritual location. _Slayer healing'll take care of it quickly enough._

So long as magic wasn't involved, Slayer healing tended to be the cure for whatever ailed her.

She'd be fine.

 _ **Ritual Site**_

 _ **Rupert Giles' POV**_

"Is it supposed to be taking this long?" Willow asked for what had to be at least the fourth time since the ritual had reached the 'simmering' stage.

"While I will admit to it taking a bit longer than I would have thought, it is not quite at the stage where one should be worried," he replied, taking the time to review the written materials concerning the ritual that he'd brought to the clearing. "It simply means that more information from Halloween has lingered than I originally predicted. Be patient."

In the privacy of his mind, though, he shared her concern since his estimation for how long the ritual would take had expired several minutes ago. Nevertheless there were no visible signs of distress from Xander so, barring some other worrying evidence, he would allow the ritual to continue. He had been truthful earlier when he'd said that interrupting the ritual before it'd been completed would be dangerous for Xander but he had still come up with a few options he could act on with the least possible risk. He would, of course, wait until the evidence became too worrying to ignore before he used one of those ways.

He could not risk doing it any sooner.

"Rupert!" Jenny said, drawing him away from his thoughts to look at her.

When he did so he saw the concern on her face but her eyes were locked on something else so he followed the line of sight until he beheld the central ward stone.

It was glowing red.

Intruders!

Moving quickly he went to the stone before speaking the incantation that would give them a direction and a current distance to the intruder. With the final word a mote of light rose up from the stone and hovered four feet above before taking on the loose shape of an arrowhead. It soon found its direction and, judging by how it stretched towards the intruder, he would estimate that the assassin was under a hundred yards away and getting closer.

When the arrow no longer stretched at all the intruder would be in the clearing with them and that was far too close for his liking.

"Willow! Get behind me and Miss Calendar! Now!" he ordered as he took his first method of defense out of his right pocket; spell stones.

It was a ridiculed method of casting spells that most members of the Mage Association and other official magic users looked down upon. It basically consisted of gathering a variety of crystals and other similar stones and then imbuing each one with a specific spell. The reason it wasn't thought well of was because the potency of the contained spell decreased the longer it went unused, with the owner frequently having to repeat the imbuing process in order to ensure the spell would be of use. Then there was the fact that one could only carry a fixed number of stones before it became cumbersome and only aided the enemy. For members of the association, the quality of their enchanted objects made his look like rocks picked up off the street. They were also capable of performing effective combat spells without the need for any tools, also placing them more than a little above him.

Nevertheless, they were the best he had given how little preparation time he'd had to work with.

Miss Calendar, on the other hand, had chosen to employ a more direct form of defense: rune element magic.

By inscribing runes into objects, she would imbue them with an aspect of one of the four classic elements: earth, air, fire and water.

He'd inquired why she did not simply manifest each element to a degree where they could be used offensively themselves rather than simply employ one of their attributes. She had told him that, while she had been schooled in the magic of her people, she had never risen above average in what she could do. As such, trying to conjure a ball of flame that she could throw and reliably hit a target would be impossible for her. It was apparently one of the reasons why she'd developed her own brand of technomancy as a measure of compensating for her less than stellar aptitude. Given this explanation, he could understand why she'd chosen to focus on attributes rather than the element itself since it'd be easier to employ it effectively. Heat and light for fire. Fluidity and chill for water. Durability and strength for earth. Swiftness and sharpness for wind. By inscribing the corresponding rune onto an object, she could bestow upon it one of the elements corresponding attributes.

Rune element magic had a flaw, though, in that certain elements were more compatible with certain objects. Try to engrave the rune on an object it was not compatible with and the results would often be failure, with only a handful proving to be minimally successful. Looking at the objects she was pulling out from her bag and placing at set positions around her, he could see that she'd covered most of her bases. However, like his stones, they were finite in number. If the intruder proved to be swift enough to evade his stones and Jenny's objects, then once they were all used up they'd be helpless to protect themselves and definitely unable to protect Xander.

"Make every shot count, English," Jenny said as she picked up her first object and began to use a small pocket knife to inscribe the rune into it.

"Please try not to make me do all the work, Miss Calendar," he said, picking out his first spell stone.

Splitting his attention to the arrowhead of the central ward stone and the direction it was pointing, he waited for the first sign of the intruder. He would have to wait until it got to within his optimum throwing distance in order to ensure that his first throw would not be wasted but it would be tense waiting that long. In all likelihood the intruder was probably one of the Terakan assassins and they were in a completely different league than the threats he had faced off against on the Hellmouth. Nevertheless, he would not abandon the young man who had placed so much faith in him and his abilities. Ever since he'd chosen not to push Willow and Xander away from fighting, he had accepted the responsibility of protecting them from the threats they might face.

He would stand triumphant against the darkness or he would fall making it work for every inch of ground it sought to take.

A few seconds later he saw his first sign as the bushes and a few of the trees unmistakably moved as if something were quickly moving through them. Sharpening his eyes, he waited for the moment in which the intruder would lose the cover the local greenery afforded it, intent on getting the first shot in. A part of him wondered precisely what form this assassin would take. Would it appear human? Would it be unmistakably demonic? Would it be akin to werewolves but involve something other than a wolf? There was no way to be one hundred percent sure since the ranks of the Order of Teraka were said to be quite varied when it came to the species and abilities of its members. As was to be expected of such members, the number that successfully escaped those targeting them to tell the tale were few indeed. All he could do was try his best and hope that that would be enough.

Therefore, when the branches and leaves of the final bush exploded outwards, he watched as the intruder was revealed to be a demonic creature made of what looked to be stone capable of either slicing them to ribbons or pounding them into wet smears on the ground. With speed about fifty percent greater than one would expect for something that size, the intruder advanced towards him, its eyes giving away nothing yet were certainly directed towards where Xander rested.

 _Patience. Patience!_ He watched the intruder got closer. _Make the first shot count… wait… NOW!_

In a smooth throw he cast the first stone at the intruder, speaking a single word to initiate its arcane properties. Glowing with purple light it streaked through the air like a tiny comet before displaying its effect once it passed the creature's maximum reach. It broke into five pieces but in the blink of an eye they changed their individual vectors to hit five different targets on the intruder's body. Unfortunately he saw to his dismay that the creature's body proved to be just as durable as granite as the five shattered on contact.

As he reached for another stone Jenny threw a billiard ball she'd inscribed with a rune at the intruder but this time when it struck its target light exploded from within, showing it'd been imbued with a fire rune. While it did have a deleterious effect on his night vision, he suspected that this had been Jenny's intent and it did prove effective since the creature slowed almost to a stop. With both arms up to shield its face from the light, its attack had been aborted but one would be forthcoming once the light faded. Looking at his selection of stones, he picked one out that had effects similar to fire since that appeared to be at least somewhat effective.

Once the last of the light faded he threw the stone, muttering its incantation as it left his hand, causing an ever-growing orange light to spread within its confines. This one did not split into pieces, though, but rather continued on whole until it hit the intruder's stone-like skin, but upon having its integrity broken it changed to liquid light. In defiance of gravity it began to trickle off to the side, as though it had a life of its own, before suddenly surging with significantly more mass than it'd had and entangled the intruder's arms. If the creature had been human it would've been enough to hold anyone not schooled in the mystic arts but in this case it only held for twenty or so seconds before being ripped apart.

 _Damn. This is proving to be less effective than I would have preferred,_ he thought even as Jenny threw a branch like a spear, only for it to suddenly pick up speed. _Its raw power and durability are proving to be more than a match for our prepared defenses._

Still, it was all they had and hopefully before it got too close Buffy or Kendra would arrive, having heard the sounds of battle.

After seeing the branch that Jenny had thrown shatter against the demon's skin, he decided that the time had come to up the level of effort being employed, even if it would exhaust his ammunition even quicker. Picking out two stones, ones that he knew would complement one another, he threw the first at the intruder and the other seconds afterwards just as he'd done once years ago. When the first got to within range it froze, temporarily befuddling the creature, but its purpose became clear when water was violently pulled out of the surrounding vegetation to encapsulate the intruder. That was when the next stone arrived, striking the water, and caused the liquid to freeze over like a curtain being drawn across a window until there was no visible sign of flowing liquid but instead unmoving ice.

"Not bad, English," Jenny said, another object, this time a rock, in her hand.

"It carries with it more risk than you think," he said, watching for any signs that the ice was cracking. "The mass of water created by the first stone would only have lasted another two seconds before falling away. If I had been slower the combination would've failed."

"But it didn't and from the looks of things the demon isn't having an easy time of all that ice," Jenny said, looking on the bright side of things. "Looks like combination attacks are the way to go."

Seeing the first cracks begin to form in the mass of ice, he did agree that two stones had proven to be marginally better than just one.

However 'better' did not necessarily mean 'good' as proven by the shattering of the icy prison, showing the demon inside more or less unscratched by his attack. If things continued to proceed at this pace, they would only be able to keep the intruder occupied for another five minutes or so because after that he would be out of ammunition, just like Miss Calendar would probably be at that point. They'd come armed for less durable foes and thus their lack of advanced intelligence regarding the assassins dispatched by the Order had already put them at a disadvantage. Unless they were somehow able to increase the damage to something more significant, defeat appeared to be likely.

Defeat and death for them all.

"Stone faced bugger!" he growled as he brought three stones up. "I'll make you work for your kill!"

This time he threw the first one into the ground just in front of the demon, the impact implying more force than logically should have been possible for him. Seconds later roots that looked like the tentacles of a sea beast burst from around the stone's impact point, each tendril wrapping itself around a limb or two in the case of the torso. Before the tentacles had finished this, though, he'd thrown the second stone, this time striking one of the tendrils before the arcane petrification effect manifested, spreading like a virus. It wasn't just the tentacle struck that turned to stone but any of the other ones that were physically in contact with the one initially changed. Fortunately this meant all of them and before long stone restraints existed around the assassin, immobilizing it much like the ice had before.

Jenny then threw the rock she'd held at the head of the demon in a manner that made him think she might've played on a team during her teen years. High school level, of course, but still a team.

Watching the stone, he had to wonder what sort of effect the rune inscribed on the stone would have.

BOOM.

With force much greater than one would expect of a rock the size of a baseball, indeed, more like what one would expect of a small boulder, the stone impacted on the demon's face. The earth attribute that must've been an increase in both density and the mass without increasing the stone's shape or size in any visible manner. While this did have the effect of breaking the stone tendrils restraining it, the rock also actually managed to cause the demon to take three steps backward with unsteady steps.

Thus it was revealed that blunt force trauma was the way to bring the assassin down rather than immobilization or perforation.

 _I can work with that,_ he thought, remembering a few stones that would suit that tactic nicely.

Taking a handful of stones out of his pocket, he examined each one before picking out the useful ones while discarding the other ones, seeing as how they would be of no use. Then he took the lead rock and threw it at the recovering demon but, unlike the others, it seemed to explode into dust before even reaching its target.

"Now's not the time to be throwing duds, Rupert!" Jenny said before reaching for another rock.

"True, and that is why I did not," he said before throwing the second stone into the cloud of dust that represented the remains of the first.

Glowing with white light, it looked to shrink for a moment before reaching out with monofilaments of energy to every mote of dust until all were connected to the center.

Then? Then what once was a collection of dust became rocks the size of the largest hail stones on record before hurtling as though shot by a cannon at the demon. While none of them had the density or mass to mirror what Jenny had managed, he took some satisfaction in that they did indeed have some effect as shown by the bits of the demon's skin that fell off with each successful impact. True, they amounted to minor scratches and lacerations, but anything that kept the demon from taking steps forward was a positive achievement.

Once the last rock was spent he was certain that the assassin was beginning to show the signs of wear and tear. Would this be enough to convince it to withdraw and try again later? That would be nice but good luck and the Hellmouth did not often come together. So, reaching into his pocket for the last time, he sorted through the rocks for another combination that could prove effective.

Sadly that was when their progress ended.

"Hurt. Hurt," the demon growled out with a deep voice. "HATE!"

Then, with more speed than anything with that sort of mass deserved, the demon shot forward at a speed he'd not seen in even the older vampires Buffy had fought thus far in Sunnydale. More out of instinct rather than an actual plan he barely registered the colors of the crystals in his hand before throwing them to the ground just ahead of him, speaking the incantation as he did so. With a speed just lower than that of thought, pillars of purple, gold and crimson shot up, cutting off his field of vision but also providing a protective barrier in front of him. It was his hope that this would buy time enough for him to put some more thought into a way to counter such speed and once more level the playing field, even if it was just enough to allow the fight to continue.

As the wall of energy in front of him deformed and a stone-like fist pierced it on its way towards him, though, his actions were met with failure. Out of instinct and nothing more he brought both his arms up and crossed them in order to receive the blow even as a voice in the back of his mind told him it was pointless. This was proven correct when the fist struck him and pain drowned out the rest of the world for a few precious seconds before his mind recovered enough to sense other things. He could tell he was airborne, he felt it when he hit the ground and most of all he could tell that his arms had, in all likelihood, been broken, though to what degree he couldn't say.

Without his arms he was forced to use his stomach muscles to sit up and, when he did, he saw the demon finishing its passage through the ineffective barrier he'd erected.

 _I suppose I should be grateful I survived the blow as well as I have,_ he thought even as Jenny used three sticks that with her runes transformed into a thick dome of branches around herself. _But if this creature can pass through our defenses with such impunity, I have my doubts that even Buffy or Kendra could slay it._

This was only supported when, with a single blow, the demon shattered the protective dome as though it was made of matchsticks. He wanted to help her, protect her, but with his arms rendered useless he had precious few options and none of them were ones that he would undertake lightly. This was because they required that he call upon forces that had a proven track record of leaving their taint on the ones who called upon them and that was something he did not want after Eyghon. Even if it did indeed appear to be the case that Eyghon was gone from this dimension, he was in no rush to repeat his mistake of so long ago.

Yet what else could he do? What other options were there?

"Get away from her!" came a scream that shocked him and painfully had him turn his head to the source.

Carrying what was likely the heaviest of the weapons they'd brought with them was Willow, looking scared out of her mind, but at the same time possessing the fiery determination to protect. The teenage girl was moving to protect Jenny with the spiked mace, with emotion rather than logic dictating her actions, else the intelligent girl would've known how pointless her actions were. Willow's strongest muscle was her mind and no other. It would take monumental effort just to swing that mace, never mind do any damage with it.

"Willow! Stop!" he yelled, his voice sounding somewhat strained due to the pain he was feeling. "RUN!"

He knew that running was pointless, given the demon's speed, but it was the only action that held even a flicker of a chance that it might succeed. So far as he knew, the demon was only attacking him and Jenny because they had attacked it and stood in its way of killing its target. If Willow ran away there was a chance she would be forgotten as unimportant. However if she struck even a single blow, it was possible that the girl would be classified as a threat and any chance of surviving past tonight would vanish.

Watching as the demon turned to face Buffy's friend, sorrow and guilt swam through his soul as he realized that their gamble to turn things around against the Terakan Assassins had failed. It hadn't been a bad idea and honestly he hadn't had anything better in mind other than to find someplace to hide out.

In the end it was as simple as their luck having expired.

 _Looks like you will get the failure you wanted to brag about, Travers,_ he thought bitterly as the demon prepared to attack the defenseless girl. _I hope you CHOKE on it!_

"Enemy. SMASH!" the demon declared and so afraid he was of what would come next he closed his eyes.

There were some things that no sane person would want to see.

And that was why he was able to hear an odd crackling sound so clearly.

"Sorry, rock for brains! Smashed Willows are forbidden in this land," spoke a voice that was almost enough to make him believe in divine intervention.

When he opened his eyes to make sure his ears hadn't been deceiving him, he beheld the oddest sight he'd ever seen: multiple fists of dirt and grass slamming into the demon.

Even stranger than that, they were knocking the demon down as though it were only half as intimidating as it'd been moments before. What was more impressive was that, instead of stopping at one blow, when one fist stopped moving another sprang from its wrist, taking what mass was needed to continue its assault on the demon. This succeeded in keeping the demon off balance three more times before it managed to use its incredible speed to prove itself faster than the soil fists.

"Pretty light on your feet for someone who looks so heavy, aren't you?" Xander asked, his voice having been positively identified. "Let's see how fast."

With that what began with fists of earth now turned into explosions of fire that at first appeared to come out of nowhere but, upon further scrutiny, he detected a blink of orange energy connecting the fire to where Xander stood. More than that, he began to notice a sound that preceded both the blink of energy and the subsequent explosions of fire.

SNAP!

BOOM!

SNAP! SNAP!

BOOM! BOOM!

 _Is this Flame Alchemy?_ He watched Xander interrupt every charge the demon attempted by creating an impressive detonation in front of it.

What was more impressive was that the young man appeared to be predicting the direction the stone assassin would attempt to advance from and made sure an explosion of fire was waiting there. It wasn't a case of Xander being able to keep track of the demon with his eyes but rather he believed the young man was using reason along with strategy to predict future approach vectors. This was rather unusual since, in the time he had known the lad, he had never displayed such an acute ability to predict the movements of an enemy. Indeed, Xander hadn't been any better than any other civilian who decided on a whim to try their hand at chess. Could this be as a result of the ritual? Could some of the information brought forth from his subconscious involve strategic thinking? The ritual had definitely improved the young man's combat application of alchemy, since he could see no obvious sign of instability or lack of accuracy. Still, he did what he could to keep his hope and optimism from soaring too high, given how the demon had managed to turn things back in his favor before.

After what seemed like an hour but more than likely was a few minutes, the demon came to a stop twenty feet away, looking as though it was trying to come up with a counter strategy. If the thing's limited vocabulary was any indicator, though, he very much doubted that it'd be any more complex than 'SMASH HARDER'. Still, this turn of events would indeed buy them the time for either Buffy or Kendra to return so they could consolidate all their fighters in one spot to hopefully put an end to things.

"Well, I think it's about time we wrapped things up, don't you, rock face?" Xander asked, sounding completely confident in his position. "My friends need to pay a visit to the hospital and I've got some head sorting to do."

With those words Xander clapped his hands together, causing arcs of blue energy to dance around both before he placed them on the ground. A moment later numerous whip-like tentacles made of dirt and grass that lashed out at the demon but, while off guard due to the previous attacks, the stony one was still fairly fast. Also it appeared that keeping control of so many limbs was proving to be a bit harder than Xander had thought. Even after they missed their mark they lingered in the dirt before the young man used his alchemy to send it back after the demon. This occurred a total of five times before a dramatic change occurred that he hadn't foreseen and therefore was unprepared for.

All of the tentacles increased their speed and the precision by an order of magnitude, and the demon all of a sudden found itself speeding towards being overwhelmed.

 _My word! The alchemy given to Xander is this powerful?_ He considered what he was seeing and evaluating it like a Watcher. _I had thought that the only thing we had to worry about was Caliburn. But if word of this new form of alchemy spreads… there are no few beings that would wish for the knowledge Xander possesses._

Indeed, when the tentacles finally succeeded in wrapping themselves around each limb and the torso of the demon, lifting it off the ground so as to deprive it of leverage, he wondered how much longer the assassin could last. Certainly it was not impossible that it might succeed in freeing itself, seeing as how the tentacles were made of soft earth and grass, but with the energy of alchemy it was succeeding for the time being.

It was only when he noticed the tentacles pulling the struggling demon in a specific direction with obvious intent that he began to wonder what was going on.

"Xander? What are you doing?" he asked just before the movement came to a stop.

"Ending this," Xander replied before there was a sudden surge of crackling alchemic energy.

In response to this, all of the spots on the ground that he had thought were missed attack attempts lit up with a blue light, making him believe that the failed attacks were not, in fact, failures. More than that, he was shocked to see lines began emerge from the impact points, reaching out to each other, but this was not merely an act to connect each disturbed patch of earth. Only once before had he seen anything even remotely like this and it amazed him then like it was doing right at this moment. Lines of light began to creep out of the glowing points of impact and it wasn't something simple like water trickling downhill or following the path of least resistance. Instead it was as though an unseen hand was drawing something and this was only further reinforced when the light lines formed a perfect circle with the demon in the center. Then, all at once, a shape formed inside the circle that resembled two pyramids overlapping, with one pointing in one direction while the other pointed in the opposite direction.

"When you get to hell, demon assassin, tell'em to make room, 'cause I'll be sending a lot of company," Xander said before snapping his fingers one more time.

Hellfire.

That was the only thing he could say to describe the torrent of flames that sprang into existence within the circle and, judging by the cries of pain that were coming from the demon, they were quite intense. Considering how the demon had managed to shrug off some of the best attacks he and Jenny had managed to throw at it, he was fairly certain no human body would be capable of retaining shape within the flames. All in all, though, the fire only lasted about five seconds at most and, when it dispersed, every inch of the circle's interior looked like it belonged to the hottest forest fire in history.

More than that, the demon assassin was down on its knees and looked like the only thing keeping it from falling face first was stubbornness and luck.

"Not bad. I was sure that would've turned you into a pile of ashes," Xander said, not sounding very discouraged by the fact that he hadn't achieved his goal. "I guess I should say how admirable it is that you endured and give you a chance to pull out of Sunnydale altogether. But I guess your bosses back at the Order probably wouldn't like that and make an example out of you to make sure no one else backs out of a job. That leaves me only one choice."

Before he could even ask, the lad was charging across the clearing towards the demon, hands up to clap once more and generate the energy that went hand in hand with the unique form of alchemy. The demon looked like it realized it was in serious danger and moved to evade but the injuries it'd sustained quickly removed that as an option.

Indeed it had only time enough to speak a single word.

"Strong."

Then, with a ruthless upward slash with his metal hand, Xander tore through the demon's torso from waist to head, almost completely cutting it in half. With such irreparable damage done it was no wonder that the assassin perished and, with the dissipation of its life force, its body crumbled until only a moderately perceptive person could discern that it had been anything other than a pile of rocks. In any case, it looked as though the threat was over with for now and, while the pain in his arms prevented him from considering this venture a complete success, it certainly had turned out better than he'd hoped.

"Looks like you guys had a rough time while I was out," Xander said after he finished looking about for signs of additional danger. "Let's get those arms splinted properly and get going. I'm no doctor and you need one to take care of those."

Being reminded of his injured arms caused his mind to especially feel the pain associated with the damage and he gasped as he fought to cope with it. While his long tenure as a Watcher had not kept him from being injured and feeling pain, he had to admit that he could not remember the last time he'd felt this level of agony. He prayed that the damage wasn't too severe but, even if it wasn't, he'd have to recuperate at home for quite a while until they healed.

In the grand scheme of things it would have little effect on his role as guide and trainer of the Slayer but more personally he'd need help doing just about everything his hands used to do.

Bugger.


End file.
